


This Is the Coda That Never Ends...

by ByTheAngell (SomeLittleInfamy)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, M/M, and will just write indefinitely, post-finale continuation, shadow world politics, that i have no plan for, this is literally a finale coda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2020-02-27 14:10:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 109,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18740635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeLittleInfamy/pseuds/ByTheAngell
Summary: Jace doesn't expect Clary to see him. She doesn't expect those vague emotions she paints to suddenly hold onto solid meaning in her mind.And the rest of the Shadow World, however open to change it may be since her departure, isn't prepared for the changes that are yet to come...(a finale coda)





	1. Part One: Jace

**Author's Note:**

> ((A/N: This is how I’m coping with the ending of the series. But not letting it end, at least not for myself. I have no plot in mind, no endgame, no plans whatsoever, because the episode ended 5 minutes ago but here I am. Here we are. Let’s do this.) )

Jace allows Clary’s hand to rest over the rune on his neck for a few seconds longer than he knows he should. It’s a risk, allowing her to be this close, to get this good of a look at anything that might jar her memories and put her at the risk of the angel’s wrath. 

But Maryse told him of her last conversation with Clary. She told him what Clary asked, about whether or not Angels are capable of forgiveness, and he has to hope against every single rational instinct within him that this, that Clary being able to see him despite his glamour, to pull his name from her memory and recognize the runes on his skin, is that forgiveness coming to light.

He has to hope, because if it isn’t then he’ll never be able to forgive himself for putting her in danger over his own selfish desire to see her. After all, Simon is able to stay away. He knows better. Even Luke, her own father, never came to a single exhibit, never ‘accidentally’ ran into her at a coffee shop or outside of her apartment. Jace is the only one who isn’t strong enough to stay away. 

...but maybe he’s the only one who can bring her back to them. 

Her fingernails graze gently over the marks and he allows it because he wants it… he needs this so badly. And then he steps away. He has to - this isn’t safe for either of them. 

“I have to go,” he says. “Nice show, Clary. I’ll see you around.” 

“Wait! Where do I know you from--” she calls after him, but he’s gone before she can follow. 

He doesn’t stop until he’s several blocks away, leaning against the side of a cold brick building, breathing heavily. But it isn’t because he’s tired or out of breath - it’s because he’s terrified of what he just awakened. 

Jace pulls out his phone and dials a number. It rings once, then twice, before someone picks up on the other end. 

“Simon?” Jace asks, waiting for a response before continuing. “Yeah, I did. And before you get all ‘superior self-restraint’ on me… she saw me. She  _ saw me _ , Simon.” Jace smiles to himself despite the severity of the situation. He can’t help it. Clary noticed him, but more than that… 

“And she remembered my name.” 


	2. Part Two: Simon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all agreed not to do anything that might trigger her memories, not knowing how the Angels would react. But for Clary to see through the glamour on her own… the implications there are enough to give Simon the first proper hope he felt in relation to his best friend in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it isn't a oneshot! Still zero plans on just /how/ long this will be or what I'm doing with it, but thanks for coming along for the vaguely promising ride with me! A little Simon love for this week's (will this be weekly? WHO KNOWS!) update of #CodaFic !

Simon’s at the Institute when his phone rings. He knows who it is before ever seeing Jace’s name flash across the screen because Simon has a personalized ringtone for everyone in his contact list. “100 Bad Days” by AJR starts playing and a small twitch of a smile pulls at his lips before he remembers what tonight is, and the fact that Jace must not be around the Institute if he was bothering to call Simon, immediately putting two and two together. 

“Please tell me you didn’t go to Clary’s show,” Simon says in lieu of a proper greeting. Part of him hopes that Jace will lie, that he’ll at least have plausible deniability if Magnus asks him about it later, or Alec or Izzy, because for some reason the fact that he and Jace have bonded more over this past year somehow makes Simon his default watcher. And while Simon appreciates the unintended Buffy reference, he doesn’t appreciate being responsible for someone as impulsive and reckless as Jace. (Though it’s more than that and they both know it - outside of his siblings, Simon is probably the closest friend Jace has just then, and if asked Simon would have to return the sentiment, even if they both act like their friendship is one of pure convenience and circumstance.) 

Simon can hear the smile in Jace’s voice even through the shoddy connection of the cell phone, but why Jace would be happy that Clary saw him there is beyond Simon, because each time only hurts him that much more.  _ Jace _ knows the importance of staying out of sight around her and it’s never easy for him to watch from a distance with his glamour up when she’s so close-

-wait. Jace  _ never _ lets his glamour down, not even when he’s sneaking off to see her when he knows he shouldn’t be. So if Clary saw him, that could only mean one thing. Well, two things. Either Jace is a lot less smart than Simon’s just starting to give him credit for, or…

“She  _ saw you _ ?” Simon echoes. “And you had your glamour up, right?” 

The voice on the other end of the phone confirms and Simon falls uncharacteristically silent for several long moments. 

“She’s remembering,” Simon repeats, his voice quiet. He thinks of his graphic novel, of the little things in the world that might spark a memory - the bridge that’s actually an entrance to the Seelie Realm, or passing by buildings that look dilapidated but are really just glamours… any number of things that might lead her back to them. 

Back to him. 

If she remembers Jace, maybe she’ll remember him, too. 

“Alright, where are you now?” Simon asks. “Good call. We have no idea how much she actually knows, or how much she  _ can _ know…. The last thing we want is to get her into any more trouble with the Angels who did this in the first place, right? So just get back here and we’ll figure something out together.” 

Maybe some of this is selfishness on Simon’s part - he knows that Jace loved Clary. That Jace still loves her, and he always will. He knows that Isabelle and Alec and Magnus all care about Clary a lot - hell, even Maia talks about her once and a while, and not just for Simon’s benefit. Everyone misses Clary and feels her loss… but Simon lost his  _ best friend _ , someone he was close to and cared about for years and years and years before any of these people even knew she existed. 

And if there’s any chance he might get Fray back into his life, he’d be damned if he wasn’t leading the charge. 

He tried to keep their friendship after her memories of the Shadow World left but it was too difficult to hide his new life and explain the gaps in their past - why Clary couldn’t call his mom to say hi, why he lived alone, why these strangely familiar things kept existing around his apartment she couldn’t quite place, why she couldn’t meet this new girlfriend of his - it was easier for Magnus to set her up with a few filler-memories and to wipe Simon away with the rest of the Shadow World. 

Easier for Clary, at least. For Simon it was torture… except now he may have a way around it. They all agreed not to do anything that might trigger her memories, not knowing how the Angels would react. But for her to see through the glamour on her own… the implications there are enough to give him the first proper hope he felt in relation to his best friend in months. 

Simon waits impatiently by the door, practically throwing himself on Jace when he shows up mere minutes later, circling the Shadowhunter while he spoke. 

“Tell me  _ everything _ . What did she say? How did she say it? What does she remember? Did she say anything about-” The questions tumble out of the vampire in an excited ramble that he can’t quite stop at first. 

Jace, thankfully, is growing quite used to this side of dealing with him and waits it out until Simon trails to a stop on his own. 

“You done?” Jace asks, eyebrow arched. 

Simon rolls his eyes but nods just the same. 

“Great. Get Izzy, and I’ll fill you both in.” 

Simon is about to argue but a warning glance from Jace forces him to stop and consider his life back home if he tries to keep this from Isabelle for even a minute longer than he has to. The prospect is not pleasant. 

“Right. Getting Izzy.” 

With a burst of speed Simon is out of sight before Jace can say another word. 


	3. Part Three - Isabelle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabelle gets filled in on the possible return of Clary's memory. She knows this is beyond just the three of them, but her reluctance to report to the Clave leaves her with only one other option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself I wouldn't have a schedule for this, but it sure is looking like a Monday Shadowhunters replacement in my life. xD No promises, but we'll see if I can keep this to once a week that way. And, as always, #CodaFic if you wanna yell on Twitter! Happy Monday!

Isabelle has to force Simon not to pick her up and sling her over his shoulder to run them both back to where Jace is waiting in his room. This isn’t the sort of discussion they want to have anywhere public, not yet anyway. It’s no secret what happened with Clary a year ago, piecing together her fate from the letter she left and her last actions with Jonathan easily enough even without her there to fill them in. 

They went after Clary when she left, of course. Not all of them, but Jace and Alec and Magnus. Clary didn’t recognize any of them by the time they tracked her down and it broke Izzy’s heart to hear that if she ever passed Clary on the street the other girl would look right through her. Clary, the only person Isabelle came to trust and care for enough to want to be her parabatai. She would’ve picked Alec if Alec hadn’t already chosen Jace but she never blamed the two of them for it, and she was almost content with the idea that she’d never have a Parabatai of her own until Clary came along. 

Clarissa Fray, Clarissa Fairchild, Clarissa Morgenstern. A girl with almost as many last names as the boy she fell in love with, who entered their lives like whirlwind left it just as suddenly. Isabelle hardly had time to adjust to either before the world around her forced her to move on like she always did, like she was expected to. 

And now, just when Isabelle is used to the idea that Clary would no longer be a part of their lives, it looks like the universe once more has other plans for her. 

The moment the door to Jace’s room shuts behind her Izzy drops Simon’s hand (he’d been tugging at it the entire way down the hall, always three steps ahead of her in his eagerness) and crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Details. Now.” It comes out like an order but they all know that this isn’t an on-the-record debriefing. No one can know about this, not yet. Clary was cleared of any lingering violations against her after her role in stopping Jonathan but that doesn’t mean the Clave isn’t still wary of her and potential of the power she once possessed. They need to be careful, and that means no reports of this on the books just yet. 

She watches Simon lean in eagerly to listen as well and Jace looks between the two of them before starting. 

“I went to her art show. I know we’re not supposed to see her, but-” 

“I know this isn’t the first time you’ve gone to check up on her,” Izzy admits. “I followed you a few times, just to make sure you weren’t trying to contact her. Alec did too. Once we were positive you weren’t trying to talk to her or reverse the Angel’s magic we just let you go.” 

“You were following--” Jace starts, a flare of anger rising at first over the fact that they followed him before it fades almost immediately at the realization that they knew all this time and never stopped him when they were both well within their rights to.  _ Especially  _ as Heads of the Institute. Jace sighs instead. “...thanks. I never talked to her, I swear. Not even tonight! I always kept my glamour up but she saw me right through it this time. And she asked about my runes - my ‘tattoos’-” Jace smiles at that, soft and a little sad. Izzy does too, remembering how Clary thought they were all just heavily tattooed mundanes when she first met them. It all feels so long ago, now. 

“-she remembered my name, Iz. I tried to walk away, I knew she shouldn’t be able to see me and I didn’t…” Jace’s words fade off as he swallows thickly. “I didn’t want her to remember and be punished again. But she followed me out and she said my name and I had to practically pry myself away from her when she reached out to touch the rune on my neck.” Izzy watches with a pang of sorrow as her brother brings his hand up to gently touch the right side of his neck, allowing his fingers to linger over the place Clary’s were earlier. 

Jace’s story is coming out jumbled, jumping around between moments, but it’s an easy enough timeline to follow. Jace shows up. Clary spots him. Clary follows him out, recognizes the runes, remembers Jace  _ specifically _ … 

She can’t imagine what that must feel like for him. She tries to, tries to picture a world where it’s her instead of Jace, where Simon forgets who she is for an entire year only to say her name again for the first time since he forgot it. It hurts, and she’s sure her imagining doesn’t hold a candle to whatever Jace experienced tonight.  

Whatever he’s still experiencing now. 

“Then what happened?” Izzy asks, refocusing. She can’t allow herself to get caught up in emotions and memories, she needs a level head for this. Out of the three of them she’s well aware that she’ll be the calmest of the trio when it comes to Clary. And, hopefully, the one with the least clouded judgment in regards to what they may have to do next. 

“I left. I said I had to go and I bolted until I was sure she wasn’t following, then I called Si and came straight here.” 

Izzy rounds on Simon. “You knew that whole time and didn’t tell me?” 

“That whole--?” Simon starts, bristling. “It’s been like, 15 minutes. Tops.” But the look of guilt on his face over that thought not even occurring to him is admittance enough that he knows he should’ve. A lot could happen in fifteen minutes. What if Clary remembered the Institute and came here? Or saw a demon on the street? Izzy isn’t sure when she started defaulting to these lines of thinking, and honestly she has no idea how Alec kept up with it here, let alone as Inquisitor. It’s exhausting. 

“That isn’t important now anyway,” Simon deflects quickly, changing the subject away from any potential anger she might direct at him. “What do we do about Clary?” 

That is the million dollar question, isn’t it? The responsible thing would be to file an official report and inform the Clave. The irresponsible thing to do would be to go right back to that art gallery with Jace and Simon just to see if Clary remembers all of them… ask her a few questions, see how far this sudden revelation of hers extends. She knows it’s just a selfish excuse to see Clary, though - and that it’d probably do more harm than good either way. 

“We can’t do this alone. It has too much potential to blow up in our faces,” she decides finally. 

“We can’t report this to the Clave! They’ll wipe her memories again, they’ll--” Jace starts, but Izzy raises a hand to silence him. 

“I never said I was going to the Clave. But as much as we all love Clary, this is bigger than us. And we can’t afford to mess it up.” This gets nods of agreement from both Simon and Jace. “I’ll have Underhill keep light surveillance on Clary. Nothing that’ll attract attention, just enough so we’ll know if she starts to see other things, or gets into trouble. We can trust him not to say anything for now, and he can pull Lorenzo in to help if there’s an emergency while we’re gone.” 

Simon raises an eyebrow. “Gone? Where are we going?” 

The idea of leaving while Clary is on the verge of a potential memory breakthrough obviously makes Simon uneasy, but Jace is already standing up and grabbing the seraph blade and stele from where they sit on his desk. Jace already knows what she’s going to say next because it’s the only logical place to turn. 

“We’re going to Alicante.” 


	4. Part Four - Alec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izzy, Jace, and Simon arrive in Alicante to visit Alec and see if he has any ideas on what they need to do moving forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know not much is happening yet, but we're setting the scene with another character catch-up/introduction or two before I get into some actual plot. Never fear, though! It's on the way!

Alec is in the middle of a meeting with the Consul as well as several Institute Heads when he gets the fire message. It’s a vital meeting: they’re working out the final details of setting up proper Downworld Councils at Institutes across the world, after seeing the success of the one in New York had within just a few months. These are some of Alec’s favorite places, run by people who are kind enough not only to agree with, but also to  _ trust  _ the changes he’s making in their world. 

It’s a lot to ask of a people so rooted in tradition, so set in their ways of following a set of antiquated laws and beliefs with every stubborn cell in their body. He’s met with resistance at almost every turn but if he can just get enough of them to agree to set up a trial run of the council in their own cities he  _knows_ this could improve relations between the Nephilim and the Downworlders immensely on a local level. 

He knows he can order every last Institute to put them in place but that isn’t how he wants to do things - he wants change, yes, but he doesn’t want to dictate it. He needs to convince the Nephilim that these are changes that should be happening. He needs to convince them that this is their future so they embrace it, not simply accept it but resent it because it’s forced upon them. Nothing would ever get done that way and he knows it, so the few willing to lead the way with him mean everything right now. 

They all hear the sound before they see it, eyes following the note that flies into the room, ready to reach out if it’s meant for them. One by one they relax around the table until it reaches the head, and Alec’s hand shoots out to catch it in front of his face. 

_ Alec, _

_ Sorry this is so last-minute, but it’s an emergency. Jace, Simon and I will be there soon. We need to talk the moment you’re free - let me know if I should come there or meet you at yours. _

_ It’s about Clary. _

_ -Iz _

It’s been a while since Alec had to deal with a Clary emergency, which is  _ almost  _ an amusing thought with the immediate memories that flood his mind of the rough start the two of them got off to after her arrival and subsequent trainwreck of influence in his world. But the urgency of the note leaves him on edge, worried over what could have his sister so worked up she can’t even wait for him to get home in a few hours if it can be helped. 

“Is everything alright, Mr. Lightwood-Bane?” A voice from across the table asks, and Alec shakes his head having almost forgotten the meeting entirely for a moment. 

“Yes, everything’s fine. Just give me one moment and we can return to business, my apologies.” He offers them a calm, winning smile before turning Isabelle’s note over and writing onto the back of it. 

_ Izzy, _

_ I can’t cancel this meeting but I’ll be free in an hour. Meet me at home and I’ll portal there the moment I’m free.  _

Whatever it is, he’s almost positive he doesn’t want it discussed at work with too many ears to potentially overhear. He sends the message off and returns to work, one more hour of discussion and agreements and compromises until they have a plan of action all four Institutes agree to. 

It’s huge, and Alec can’t help the bit of a high the win gives him, wishing he could go home and have a drink with Magnus and revel in it for a little while. 

Unfortunately, that simply isn’t in the cards for him. Alec reschedules the rest of his afternoon to new appointments over the next few days and mentally prepares himself for whatever he’s about to hear from home. Magnus is in a meeting with a client in Africa so Alec has one of the other warlocks create the portal home for him, arriving to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and three very concerned faces. 

“This can’t be good if you’re already making me coffee,” he observes, eyes immediately drawn to Isabelle. 

“It isn’t…  _ not _ good. Technically speaking. Not yet, at least.” She starts.  
  
“Oh yes, that was completely reassuring,” he says, warily making his way over to the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup. “Out with it. What did you do?” Alec asks it as a general question but his gaze lingers longer on Simon and even longer on Jace as he looks between them. “Please tell me you didn’t finally--” 

“Why does everyone assume this is my fault?” Jace cuts him off. “Okay,  _ maybe _ it’s a little bit my fault for being there in the first place, but I was glamoured. And she saw right through it, Alec. And she remembered my name.” 

Alec is suddenly very glad he cleared his schedule for the rest of the afternoon. “What happened? Every detail, now.” 

“Wow you sure did pick the perfect replacement in Isabelle,” Jace points out when Alec’s reaction is nearly identical to Isabelle’s - the perfect blend of sibling concern and an authoritative need to get a full idea of the situation to properly assess what to do next. But he does as he’s asked, recalling for the third time that night what happened, not leaving out a single detail. 

By the end Simon is pacing, Izzy is standing with her arms folded, and Alec’s eyes are wide. “What does it mean? Do you think the Angels’ powers are wearing off?” 

Jace shakes his head. “I don’t think they just  _ wear off _ , not for something as big as this. It isn’t like they just  _ forgot _ about her. If she’s remembering it has to be because they want her to, right? They’re giving her a second chance?” 

Izzy shrugs. “I don’t know… she’s strong, we know she’s capable of things that normal Shadowhunters aren’t. Is it enough to break through a block put in place directly by the Angels?” 

“Okay but more importantly, is this going to hurt her? I mean, she had a  _ lot _ of stuff blocked from her memories. What if it’s too much when it all comes back? What if the Angels punish her for it?” 

All eyes turn to Alec, and he feels them on him like a physical weight. It’s why they came here, after all: hoping he’d have all the answers. Or at least a better idea than they have at the moment. This isn’t something the can fix on their own and they want his help. Or maybe they don’t want it, but they  _ need  _ it. Either way, they came here for answers, and he hates the answer he has to give them now.

“I don’t know.” The moment the words leave his lips he can see the disappointment register on their faces.  “I don’t know what to tell you about any of it, really. I’m just the Inquisitor, I don’t have a direct line to Raziel. Just… okay, as long as she doesn’t remember anything specific, she’s fine for now. She isn’t about to come knocking on the door of the Institute, or stumbling across a stele and drawing herself some crazy new rune, right?” 

They all shake their heads, but don’t look entirely convinced. And that’s when he realizes that the truth is  _ none of them know what to do about Clary _ , much the way they hadn’t when she first arrived in their lives, either. She was always a problem to solve, always an enigma. 

At least some things never changed. 

“We’ll need to keep someone on her.  _ Not _ you, Jace,” Alec adds quickly. “I’m sorry, but we all know what your connection to her is like. We can’t risk it breaking any more of the block than it already has.” Alec pauses, frowning. “In fact… it can’t be any of you. Iz, you know best who you can trust with this back home. Just someone to keep tabs on her, make sure she isn’t seeing any more of things she shouldn’t be, or drawn to places she shouldn’t be. The more time we can buy with this, the better.”

Simon raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t going to report it?” He asks, and the hopeful told in his voice betrays the fact that that’s exactly what he’d been afraid of Alec doing up until now. And Alec had to admit the thought crossed his mind more than once - after all, with the delicate nature of the work he has going, getting caught covering up something like this could ruin him before he ever had a chance to really get started. 

But there's nothing to tell, he convinces himself. She remembered a name, hardly a matter of Shadow World Security. 

“No.” Alec says, adding quickly when he sees just how easily Simon’s face lights up, “Not yet. If the wrong people find out, even if she doesn’t remember much right now, they’ll want to  _ do something _ about it before she does. And Clary doesn’t deserve that. Not after everything she sacrificed for us.”    
  
The fact that he doesn’t say exactly what the ‘something’ in question might be only makes the potential result sound that much more ominous. And that’s the point. He doesn’t want them to panic but he can’t have them taking this lightly, either.

“Thanks, Alec.” Izzy says, the words a sigh of relief. “I already have Underhill keeping an eye on her through surveillance.” 

Alec smiles. “Looks like you already have this under control. You hardly needed my advice.” 

“Maybe you’re just slacking now that you’re out of the field for so long. Maybe next time you come to visit we’ll throw you out at a rogue vampire den,” Jace jokes, walking over to clap Alec on the shoulder. 

Alec leans into the motion with a wistful sigh. “You have no idea how much I’d love that right now, actually. All these meetings are killing me.” 

Izzy shakes her head, and the three of them head towards the door to head back to New York. “Tell Magnus we said hi, and that we miss him! You two better come visit soon!” 

“It’s only been two weeks, Iz,” Alec points out. 

“That’s two weeks too long,” his sister counters, and he couldn’t agree more. 

“Well, not that we needed an excuse, but we have a good enough one now. I’ll talk to him when he gets back and see when we can come by and figure more of this out.” 

They exchange hugs, Alec even allowing Simon to say his goodbye with outstretched arms and a too-tight embrace that he’s positive is entirely on purpose. 

Once they’re gone Alec heads over to the drink cart and pours himself something a little stronger than coffee, sitting down to think over everything he just heard. Clary remembering, that’s one thing. But the Angels actively  _ forgiving _ her? That holds implications of its own that none of them are ready to consider just then. 

He can’t wait for Magnus to get home to talk this through with. If anyone would know how to deal with returning blocked memories, it’d be the warlock who blocked them from that same person her whole life.

How convenient that warlock happened to be his husband. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying this and end up mentioning it on Twitter, I'll be checking #CodaFic to see what people think! <3


	5. Part Five - Magnus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus comes home to find his husband deep in thought. What's on his mind isn't a scenario Magnus ever anticipated dealing with... but faced with the turn of events he has no hesitation over protecting Clary first and foremost.

Of all the places Magnus envisioned himself ending up one day, Idris was never even on the long list of possibilities. He was more than a little wary at first when Alec told him about the newly created position, but as much as he distrusted the Nephilim instating the title he distrusted the intentions of any other Warlock who may show an interest in taking it on even more. This was a title that could be easily manipulated, a vital role which could be undermined with the briefest slip of ill intent or seeking some sort of retribution against the Nephilim for years past. 

So he took it. Together Alec and he began to shape the Shadow World into something neither of them imagined seeing in decades, let alone a little under a year. Then again, he isn’t really surprised - this is his Alexander, after all, and Magnus always knew that he was destined for great things once he came into himself. 

And after an impossibly long day of meetings and appointments, Magnus is ready for a relaxing night in with no one to impress and no world to change for a few hours. He’s even debating whether or not he’ll be able to talk Alec into putting on a terribly cheesy movie when he comes in and catches sight of his husband deep in thought. 

Something’s wrong. 

Magnus always finds it a point of pride that he can often read Alec like an open book when there’s something on his mind, no matter how hard his husband tries to hide it. In fact, quite infuriatingly for Alec most of the time, it’s often  _ easier _ to read him when he’s upset or anxious over something. 

Sometimes it’s a subtle tick here, or a curious question there, and other times… well, other times it’s returning home to find Alec sitting next to Magnus’ good bottle of scotch. It isn’t that Alec never drank: but Alec rarely drank self-prompted, usually only partaking while out with friends, or casually at formal events, or to share a glass or two with Magnus at the end of a long day. This is Magnus’ first hint that something is troubling Alec. 

“Sorry I’m late, darling,” Magnus says, hanging his coat up on the rack next to the door, words coming slow while he feels the mood of the room. “I’d ask how your day was, but something tells me it was quite eventful.” 

Alec, who up until that moment was looking up at Magnus while worrying his bottom lip, now allows his eyes to follow Magnus’ gaze down to the drink on the side table. 

“Mind if I join you?” Magnus asks, already making his way toward the drink cart. 

“You’re going to want to for this,” Alec says, and though Magnus is now certain there’s something he’s building up to telling him he’s now equally convinced that it isn’t anything inherently  _ negative _ . Normally when Alec is angry over something with work he’s venting his frustrations before Magnus can even get both feet through the door. But this quiet contemplation? This is something different.  

Plus, Alec hadn’t tried to call him or send a fire message, so whatever it is, at the very least it isn’t terribly urgent. Magnus isn’t sure if that’s good or bad just yet. 

Magnus pours himself a glass of amber liquid before taking up the space next to Alec. 

“Alright, spill. What’s going on?” And, to bring a bit of levity to the moment (because the longer Alec says nothing, the more concerned Magnus grows) adds, “On a scale of 1-10 how worried should I be?” 

Alec considers that question much more seriously than the joke it’s meant to be. “Honestly? I’m not sure. Whenever Clary’s involved anything that should reasonably be a 1 always end up a 10 somehow.” And then, much to Magnus’ surprise, he sees the flicker of a smirk on Alec’s face. 

“Clary? Has something happened?” Magnus is already itching to open a portal and go check on her. It wouldn’t be the first time. Ever since the night of her wedding, when Jace found the note she left behind and brought it to them, Magnus has been watching over her. It was easier when they were still in New York - a scholarship here, an inheritance from a long-lost relative there, an anonymous donor to fund her art galleries… he got her on her feet and made sure she stayed there. The last he poked his nose around was about a week ago… how much could’ve happened in a week? 

“She saw Jace - through his glamour - and remembered his name. They think she might be getting her Sight back, and maybe even some of her memories.” Alec says the words slowly, still turning over the implications of them in his head. Magnus can see the gears turning with every word. 

“She’s-- Oh. Wow.” Magnus takes a very long swallow from his own glass. “You said ‘they’...?” 

“Izzy, Simon, and Jace. They all came to see me tonight after it happened.” 

Magnus nods. “Have you told anyone else?” He asks, already certain he knows the answer but not wanting to be presumptuous. 

“No… only you. And the only other person back home who knows is Underhill, because Izzy assigned him to keep an eye on her for now. Why… do you think I should?” Alec’s eyes turn sharply on him, and Magnus shakes his head. 

“That isn’t my decision to make. I think we both know the dangers of trying to brush something like this under the rug, but-” 

“-we both know the dangers of turning this information over, too.” Alec finishes for him, and Magnus can only nod. This might be the sort of secret large enough to jeopardize everything Alec worked for if something were to happen and word got out that Alec knew about it ahead of time. But Magnus understood the inherent distrust of the Clave and the Consul better than most. He probably felt more strongly about it than Alec himself. 

Watching the conflict pass over Alec’s face, Magnus puts his glass down and reaches over to bring a hand up gently to Alec’s chin, his thumb brushing across his boyfriend’s jaw. “And I think we both know your mind was made up long before you asked for my opinion.” Magnus smiles. 

Alec laughs a little, leaning into his touch. “Do you think you could, I dunno, pop in there tomorrow morning? Just to get a feel for things? I hate to ask, I’m sure you have a busy day already, but--” 

Magnus brings a finger up to rest over Alec’s lips. “Shhhh. You don’t even have to ask. Of course I will. I’m curious to see if someone else might have a hand in this, or if it’s simply undoing itself naturally. It has been a year… maybe angelic magic wears off the same as warlock magic, and your busybody Angels simply can’t be bothered to make the trip to reinforce it?” 

“Yeah, maybe.” Alec says, clearly unconvinced. But Magnus watches Alec relax against the sofa a little more, the tension in his shoulders fading visibly. “I’m sure she won’t remember everything overnight or anything like that. We have time to figure it out. I just  _ really _ didn’t need this right now on top of the Downworlder Cabinet initiative finally getting underway.” 

“Oh, I almost forgot all about that. How did the meeting go?” 

They spend the rest of the night catching up on each other’s day, and for a little while it’s almost as if it’s just a regular night in the Lightwood-Bane home.  
  
For a little while it’s almost as if their entire world  _ isn’t _ about to turn on its head. 


	6. Part Six: Luke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke finds out about Clary's situation, and discovers that keeping his distance is even more difficult now than it was before.

Luke never stopped looking out for Clary. She’s practically his daughter in all but name and he remembers that feeling of whiplash going from listening to Maryse tell him that Clary supports the two of them being together (the idea that Clary would welcome Maryse into the little family they created for themselves after Jocelyn’s passing one of the reasons he’s positive taking a chance with Maryse was a good call)  to the sudden news later on that Clary’s knowledge of the Shadow World is gone. It was the highest high to the lowest of lows, the heartbreak he felt (and still feels) over the realization that he couldn’t keep in contact with her, not the way he wanted to, without putting her in jeopardy so strong he debates leaving it all behind just to stay with her. He'd give it all up - the life as a Shadowhunter, as a  _human_ , he only just regained - for her sake if it came down to it, but even that was deemed too much of a risk.

Keeping watch at a distance this last year is probably the most difficult thing he’s ever had to do. 

But he never stopped watching. And neither did Maryse, who’s the one who often goes to Clary’s shows and offers words of praise and encouragement in person. Clary and Maryse hadn’t been particularly close which makes her the perfect person to actually  _ be there _ from time to time. Mundane. No strong personal history. She can be present without being noticed and is unlikely to stir up any strong memories or feelings in Clary, so it makes him feel better to know she can say a few of the things he wishes he could say himself; to be there when he can’t be. 

So when Maryse goes to Clary’s exhibit and sees the artwork, quickly catching on to how much of it is reflective of moments and places Clary once knew from the Shadow World, she tells Luke immediately. He knows something's up when she arrives home and doesn't so much as say hello or stop to take her heels off, and entirely bypasses his lean-in for a kiss. When Maryse has something on her mind she develops a singular sort of focus that he's always loved and admired about her. 

“I’d know that image anywhere, Lucian, abstract or not.” Maryse says with finality, showing him the photos she took on her phone. “That’s Alec and Magnus’ wedding. And this one-” she scrolls. “I’m positive that’s the stained glass at the Institute-” another swipe of her finger, “-and you can just make out the shape of runes in the patterns of those background swirls in this one.” 

“This is how it happened just before she turned 18, too. Her memories came through her art and she had no idea they meant anything other than things she dreamed up to draw.” He frowns. “I didn’t talk to her before it was too late the last time. I can’t make that same mistake twice.” 

Even as he says the words, he hesitates. 

There was never any formal rule banning them from having contact with Clary. The Clave, however, made it very clear that it would be  _ highly advisable _ not to go against the will of the Angels. The caution to keep their distance isn’t just for their own sakes, but for Clary’s who is more likely to have her memories resurface if they’re all around. The Angels could’ve simply de-runed her, but instead they took her sight - and her memories of this life - presumably for a reason. The Angels clearly do not want Clary to be part of this world in  _ any _ capacity, even by association. They all talked about it at length... It wasn’t an easy agreement to come to; in fact, the discussion became so heated at points that Luke wasn’t sure they would all come out of in on speaking terms. 

But in the end they had, even if it took some of them the better part of this last year to adjust to life without her. Even if some of them, like Luke, are  _ still _ adjusting and likely always will be… unless what Maryse says is right, and Clary’s remembering on her own again. 

“She’ come looking for me if she was…” Luke says, trying not to sound too hopeful. “If Clary started to remember I should be one of the first people she’d seek out.” 

“Would she be able to find you?” Maryse points out, and his stomach drops. He isn’t with the police anymore and he moved in with Maryse a few months back. The Jade Wolf is closed down and there’s nothing tying him to his old life left to turn to. 

“She’d go to the station,” he realizes. “I’ll have to check in there, see if she’s been by. I think I still have a contact or two there I can utilise.” 

Luke wants to go see her but the exhibition is already over and it’s late. He can’t go sneaking around the art school’s campus in the dead of night without raising suspicion, and while he’s certainly tempted to give it a shot anyway he’s able to be rational enough about all of this to know that’s a bad idea. 

They shelve the conversation for the remainder of the night, deciding to bring it up to Isabelle tomorrow. Maybe. If they decide to bring it up to anyone at all. He has a meeting with Isabelle at the Institute the next afternoon so it’d be easy enough, but he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of this if it ends up being nothing. He also isn’t sure he wants Isabelle to know if it  _ isn’t _ nothing - she’s the Head of the Institute, and that comes with certain obligations… like reporting something like this to the Clave. He doesn’t think that’s the sort of person that Isabelle is, but one can never tell how these sorts of positions can change people and she hasn’t been there long enough for him to be certain this wouldn’t reach the wrong set of ears. 

So the next morning Luke decides to check in on Clary himself before heading off to his meetings later in the day. He knows it’s a risk but he’s a professional. He’s trailed trained criminals before, surely he can stay out of sight of a teenage girl for an hour or two. 

She’s sketching in the corner of Java Jones, which isn’t surprising, when he tracks her down. What  _ is _ surprising is who else he finds there. Luke doesn’t see the warlock at first - his glamour is strong, even against other Downworlders with the sight - but Magnus drops the glamour while simultaneously grabbing Luke by the arm and pulling him out of the shop. 

“What are you doing here?” They ask one another at the same time the moment they’re out on the sidewalk. 

Luke doesn’t say a word, he only pulls up the photos that Maryse took the night before and watches the look on Magnus’ face turn from confused to a steadily deepening frown with each one he goes through. 

“That’s my wedding-” Magnus says, almost in awe as much as in surprise. “This one is the Seelie Realm…” Magnus sucks in a sharp breath. “That’s Edom.” 

“It’s all just beneath the surface. Maybe it’ll stay there, just enough to sense but not enough for her to actually remember?” Luke wonders out loud. 

He almost hopes that’s the case because he doesn’t want Clary to come back into this life, this world, if it’s only to suffer for her past actions at the hands of the Angels. For all the good she did after coming into her powers, she suffered greatly for it. Luke loves her too much to selfishly wish that upon her again… it’s one of the reasons he agreed with the others to keep his distance in the end. 

Which makes what Magnus tells him next extremely bittersweet. 

“Well,” Magnus starts, deliberately slow. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone this, but since you’re pretty much on the exact same page we are…” Magnus stops again, considering his words carefully. 

“What is it?” Luke asks, not entirely sure he wants to hear the answer. “What don’t I know?” 

Magnus eyes luke one last time, almost as if he’s sizing him up. Luke tries not to take offense to the idea that Magnus doesn’t trust him implicitly, because he gets it. Politics and all that, secrets to keep, and not everyone can be ‘in the loop’... but this is different.   
  
This is Clary. 

“Clary saw Jace through his glamour last night - she remembered his name. That’s why I’m here, just to check on her. I was supposed to see if it was just a one time thing, but if this isn’t the first part of her past that’s starting to push through…” 

“Who else knows already?” Luke asks, immediately concerned that this is out of his control before he even gets the chance to help. 

“More people than I’m comfortable with, honestly. But I was one of the last to know myself so I don’t really have room to talk. Jace told Simon, who told Isabelle, who told Alec, who told me. Oh, and Underhill knows, too.” Magnus pauses. “He better not go blabbing to Lorenzo or I swear I’ll--” 

“Magnus, focus. Please.” Luke’s concern for Clary outweighs almost everything in his life, and this is potentially very serious. 

“Sorry. That’s it. And now you… and Maryse, I suppose. I’m guessing there’s no way of convincing you to keep this from her, is there?” 

Luke laughs. “I couldn’t if I tried. That woman reads me like she  _ wrote _ the book these days. And if I don’t say something, you really think one of her kids won’t go to her soon enough?” 

Magnus sighs, but smiles with a bit of fondness as he nods in agreement. “I get the feeling this isn’t the end of it, either. Especially if we all keep showing up around her like this. It’s too risky, we’re going to draw attention… myself included.” 

“So what do you propose we do?” Luke demands. Magnus should know better than to think for a second that Luke will be willing to just walk away from this; he won’t walk away from Clary when there’s even the slightest chance she’ll need him. 

“We back off again. Same as before. Watch from afar… that means no Jace sneaking around with his glamours, and no Maryse. Just until we get a better handle on where things stand,” Magnus suggests. 

It makes sense, but that doesn’t mean Luke has to like it. “Alright,” he agrees with grudging reluctance. “But only if you promise to keep me updated if something happens this time.”   
  
“Of course,” Magnus starts, but falls silent after a look from Luke. 

“Don’t ‘ _ of course _ ’ me, Magnus. If Maryse hadn't seen those painting you never would’ve told me about this, would you?” 

Magnus at least has the decency to look guilty. “We would have, eventually. Apparently Alec and the others decided not to drag anyone else into this until they know exactly what  _ this _ is. And I agreed.” It isn’t the answer Luke wants but he knows it’s the best he’s going to get. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, Lucian, I believe I have some art to purchase. Give Maryse my best.” And with that Magnus turns and disappears around the corner. 

Eager to get out of there before Clary can come out and see him Luke turns to leave as well, but in the opposite direction, heading towards Ouroboros.


	7. Part Seven: Maryse & Maia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke fills Maryse in on what little more he's gathered. Meanwhile, Clary finds herself drawn to a soon-to-be diner that's been calling her name lately...

The bell above the door rings and Maryse starts to answer without looking up from the paperwork she’s filling out behind the counter. 

“Good morning! Looking for anything in particular I can assist wi--” she glances up and the words trails off at the sight of Luke standing just inside the door. 

“Oh, Lucian! I didn’t expect to see you so early… nothing’s the matter, is it?” She adds, remembering what happened last night. 

“Not exactly,” he says, eyes darting around the shop to see if there are any other people around. This sets Maryse on alert, a small wave of anxiety coming over her. If whatever he has to say he can’t say in front of mundanes then it almost has to be about Clary. 

“Don’t worry, we’re alone. You’re the first customer of the day.” The words come with a flicker of a smile, but it doesn’t last long as Luke wastes no time getting to the point of his impromptu visit. 

“You were right. Clary’s remembering. I ran into Magnus this morning and he filled me in. I’m guessing you didn’t see Jace at the art exhibit last night while you were there?”

Maryse shakes her head. “No, of course not. He wasn’t--  _ he didn’t _ ?” 

“He was glamoured, but Clary saw right through it. She even remembered his name, but not who he was or how she knew him. This is more than just some hazy images coming through in her paintings, Mare. We need to keep our distance until Alec and the others decide what to do.”

_ “Alec  _ knows, too? I’m starting to wonder if my children tell me anything that’s going on in their lives anymore.” She frowns, but knows that she can’t really blame them. It isn’t as if she has a say in things regarding the Shadow World any longer. She has no right to be kept in the loop, and only knows as much as she does because of the positions her children hold, and her boyfriend’s involvement with them. 

She considers herself lucky to be as involved as she is in general, but that doesn’t stop the sting she feels at being intentionally kept in the dark about something like this. She knows Jace well enough to know this isn’t a one-time thing he’s done. How long had he been watching Clary without telling her?  More importantly, how much more is he hurting than she realized before? Of course Maryse isn’t foolish enough to believe Jace when he said he’s fine, but if he’s sneaking around and lying about it, he’s clearly trying to cover up just how not fine he is after all this time. 

“So I’m banned from doing the one helpful thing I can contribute?” Maryse sighs, the weight of the situation and her own inability to help seeming to tug her entire body down into a slump of shoulders and downturned lips. 

“I know it’s difficult. I’ll be right on the sidelines with you, just until they learn more. Trust me, no one wants to make sure Clary’s alright more than me… it’s killing me to know she might remember me but I can’t go find out.” Luke tells her, reaching out a hand to take her own and give it a small, comforting squeeze. There’s a break of emotion in his voice, something sad and almost desperate in the admission that she’s certain he’s been holding in since he found out. 

She knows how much it means to be the one he’s willing to open up with, and it isn’t something she takes for granted. 

“Of course it is. Lucian, I’m so sorry, I made it all about me when I know how hard this is for you. I can only imagine if it were one of my children.” Maryse pulls her hand back out of his and looks down, suddenly very interested in shuffling the paperwork on the table in front of her. Of course he’d be kind enough to try and comfort  _ her _ when he’s the one who should be hurting here. She only looks back up at Luke when he places a hand under her chin and lifts it gently up to meet his own again. 

“Just because I’m frustrated doesn’t mean you can’t be. I know it’s difficult for you, too.” He smiles at her and she relaxes, and they both lean over the counter for a quick kiss before the bell above the door dings again and a customer walks in. They pull apart, bashful smiles on their faces like teenagers caught making out underneath the bleachers, but the woman at the door only grins knowingly to herself before turning to the nearest bookcase. 

“If there’s anything you need help with, let me know!” Maryse calls across the room before turning her attention back to Luke with a light laugh. 

“I suppose that’s my cue to go. I don’t want to be late for that meeting with Isabelle anyway. Take care of yourself, and call me if you need anything, alright?” He leans in for another kiss, a shorter one this time, before pulling away. 

“You too, Lucian. And don’t worry. It’s all going to work out in the end. They’ll figure something out.” She trusts Alec and Magnus with her life, so she certainly trusts them with Clary’s. Lucian looks like he wants to share that total blind faith, even if he can’t quite manage it. 

Luke only nods before taking his leave of the shop, and Maryse goes back to work, but not before texting Jace to make sure he’s holding up alright after everything that happened. 

**_M: Jace, Lucian told me what happened. How are you? But no lying this time. This isn’t the first time you went to see her, is it?_ **

**_J: I’m fine. And no, it isn’t. I’m sorry, I know I should’ve have. It won’t happen again._ **

**_M: I’m not worried that you did it, I’m worried that you’ve been hurting more than you told me about. Seeing her all this time and not being able to talk to her…_ **

**_J: I’m fine, really. She’s fine. And that’s all that matters. Look, I have to run but I’ll call you later?_ **

**_M: Alright. Be safe. Love you._ **

**_J: Love you, too._ **

It’s the best she’s going to get for now. 

“Excuse me, ma’am? I was trying to find…” the customer in the corner starts now that she knows she isn’t interrupting anything, and Maryse quickly pockets her phone to get back to work. 

\---

Maia might as well be sleeping in the booth in the corner for all the time she’s spending remodeling the restaurant lately. Having Bat swing by to help when he isn’t working makes the progress so much faster, and even Simon, Jace, and Izzy swing by on occasion to lend a hand, but for the most part she’s turned this into her passion project. 

The Jade Wolf saw too much bloodshed in it’s time - it became a place known for conflict and confrontation, especially after that night with the vampires. The night--

\--Maia pulls her thoughts back from that night. It’s the whole point of redoing the place, after all: a bit of rebranding, to turn somewhere she once found comfort and a family and acceptance into that all over again, but not just for her, and not even just for the werewolves, but for  _ all _ Downworlders and Shadowhunters alike. 

Maia hears the sound of the front door open and doesn’t think twice about it at first, assuming it’s just one of them swinging by to visit, or to help, or both. Bat makes particularly frequent appearances to bring her food because otherwise she’ll work straight through the day and get so caught up in the progress she forgets to eat. But the tentative voice that calls out, “...hello?” from the other room isn’t one she immediately recognizes. 

Maia sets the paint brush down carefully on the bucket she’s using - not that it matters, as she has enough of it in her hair and on her clothing, so why not the floor, too? - before climbing quickly down the ladder she was using to reach a tricky corner of the border molding. 

“Hey, we’re closed, didn’t you see the--” Maia starts speaking before she rounds the corner to see who ignored the ‘closed’ sign on the door and came in anyway. Her words trail off in an open-mouthed gape at the sight in front of her. “--sign.” 

Maia can’t believe she didn’t place the voice immediately. She looks amazing, with her red hair in waves and bangs that suit her face surprisingly well, and a hesitant smile on her face as she holds up both of her hands at the sight of Maia rounding the corner read to kick her out for trespassing. 

“I did, and I’m sorry.” Clary drops her hands to tug nervously at the black shirt with flowing sleeves she wears tucked into a pair of floral patterned pants, untucking a corner in the process of her fidgeting. She looks torn between speaking again to justify why she ignored the sign and wanting to turn and bolt without another word. The result is her standing there, fidgeting, wordless after her hesitant apology. 

“What are you doing here?” The words come off harsher than Maia intends, but that’s because she’s a little terrified, if she’s being honest. Clary doesn’t look like she recognizes Maia at all, but that doesn’t change the fact that  _ Clary _ came to  _ her _ . Should she call someone? Send her away? Both of those are probably really solid options, but instead Maia waits for Clary’s answer, curiosity getting the best of her. 

“Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t sure? I don’t know why I felt so compelled to come in here,” Clary starts slowly, allowing her gaze to travel from Maia to the work-in-progress room around them. “But I’ve been drawn to this building at least a dozen times this month, and I couldn’t just walk by it today for some reason. I used to come here all of the time before…” Clary takes a deep breath, as if trying to inhale the essence that once was the Jade Wolf. “It feels good to be here. Like I  _ should  _ be here, almost? And I know this isn’t making any sense and I probably sound  _ insane _ right now.” Clary laughs, a sound edged with nerves, and it’s all Maia can do not to give in to the tears she feels threaten to well over at the sound of it in her life again. 

It’s overwhelming, the idea that even so many months since she lost her memories of them, Clary still has those feelings and this connection. It hurts more than Maia expects to know that Clary’s looking at her like a stranger, that she could think for even a  _ second _ that Maia will judge a single thing she’s feeling right now; that Clary can stand two feet in front of her and not know how much she means to Maia and how  _ goddamn much _ she’s missed by so many people. 

“It doesn’t sound insane,” Maia says, her voice quiet. 

“Well that’s a relief. I really didn’t want you to call the police on me for trespassing.” Clary falls silent again. Maia can tell she doesn’t want to go, but she can’t think of a reason to stay, either.  “I should leave. Sorry, I don’t want to-” Clary starts, but she doesn’t get to finish before Maia cuts her off with words that leave her lips before she can think twice about them. 

“You should stay.” Maia mentally curses herself for it, knowing without a doubt that she shouldn’t be doing this but unable to stop herself just the same. After talking with Simon about Clary just yesterday this has to be some sort of fate, right? “I mean, you can go if you want to, obviously. But if you  _ don’t _ want to… I’m just painting one of the back rooms, if you’re any good with a paintbrush?” Maia can’t help a bit of a smirk at the question, already knowing the answer. 

“Yeah, I can handle a paintbrush,” Clary confirms, relaxing at the knowledge that she doesn’t have to leave right away. “I’m Clary, by the way.” Clary walks closer to her and extends a hand. 

“Maia,” Maia says, taking the offered hand. 

Maia knows it’s selfish, but for the next hour she takes in as much of Clary as she can - every smile, every laugh, every moment she gets frustrated over a layer of cheap paint not going on smoothly. They fall into an easy rhythm that’s finally broken when Maia looks over and sees what is unmistakably a rune drawn onto one of the walls. 

The paint roller she holds clatters to the ground, splattering paint all over her shoes and jeans and the floor. Clary startles, looking over at Maia in concern only to follow Maia’s gaze to the marking on the wall. 

“What the…” Clary mutters, taking a step away from it. “I don’t remember painting that.” 

“You should leave,” Maia says, voice suddenly tense. 

“I’m sorry. It’ll be really easy to cover, just let me see that roller for a second and-” 

“No, Clary. You need to leave. Right now. This was a mistake, I’m so sorry, I never should’ve let you in here.” Maia mentally curses herself a million more times. What did she think was going to happen? 

Clary looks hurt, she looks confused, but it’s the hint of fear behind her eyes at the sight of the marking on the wall that makes Maia’s heart ache the most for her. 

“Of course. I shouldn’t be here anyway.” Clary lingers just long enough to spare a glance over her shoulder at Maia, but Maia remains rooted to the spot until Clary disappears from sight without so much as a goodbye and Maia hears the front door open and close again behind Clary.  

Maia hears the door open again barely a minute later and forces herself back into the main room. “I thought I told you to--” she starts, expecting to have to send Clary away for a  _ second _ time (as if the first didn’t hurt enough), except that isn’t who she sees standing in front of her. 

“Please, don’t stop on my account,” Jace says, eyeing her expectantly with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’d love to hear all about what you told Clary.” 


	8. Part Eight: Jace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Underhill notices Clary visiting places she shouldn't be, and Jace goes to see if Maia knows more than they think she does.

“Luke knows. How does Luke know? Do you think Alec told him?”  Jace is at the Institute heading into the cafeteria for a quick brunch with Isabelle and Simon. It isn’t so much that they planned the mid-morning meal to be a brunch specifically, just that they all freed up at such scattered times throughout the morning it’s the first chance any of them have to eat. 

“I don’t know,” Izzy admits, biting down on her lower lip. “He’d tell me if he was.” There’s a doubt in her tone that neither of them acknowledge. “Right?”  
  
“Right.” Jace agrees, though he feels the same doubt. “But how else would Luke find out? And mom, too. You know she’s going to come by later and want to  _ talk _ now.” He groans, thinking of the texts he got from her that morning and the lengthy explanation he’ll have to give to get out of this one. 

“I dunno, maybe  _ none of you _ managed to stay away like we agreed,” Simon suggests, the slightly bitter undertone of his words more than justified (as is the pang of guilt Jace feels over them). All this time Simon stayed away from his best friend because it’s what they all decided should be done, knowing memories he could’ve kept with her were taken as well, for her own safety. And now it’s looking like Jace may not be the only one who didn’t hold up his end of that agreement… 

Jace feels rotten about it, of course he does, but there isn’t anything he can do to fix it now. Instead he looks down at the selection of food in front of him, eager for a topic change. It’s too late for a proper breakfast, but not quite late enough to catch the lunch rush, and what results is a tray with some breakfast leftovers and the start of the lunch options in a less-than-appetizing mix. 

“You know if you asked them to make some of the lunch food early, they would. You  _ are _ the Head of the Institute, what good is it if you aren’t going to get some perks?” Jace grumbles, eyeing the slightly hardening waffle on his plate next to some carrots and dip. 

“Because with the trouble we’re potentially in here, I want to save all my good will and favors for something that matters, not for fresh french fries at 10 am,” Izzy returns, and Simon laughs at the comment before sobering up pretty fast (pretty fast for Simon, at least). 

“You don’t  _ really _ think this is going to be trouble, do you?” He asks, glancing between them. So much for the topic change, Jace thinks to himself. 

“I don’t know, Simon. And I’d rather be safe than sorry and prepare for the worst.” Izzy says the heavy words with a sigh to match. 

“...and what  _ is _ the worst?” Simon prompts. 

Izzy remains silent, as does Jace. He doesn’t know about his sister, but Jace has no idea what a worst case scenario would be here. Would it be Clary remembering and finding her way back? Would it be Clary remembering and deciding to stay away? Or trying to use her runes again, to communicate with the Angels? Is the worst case scenario the Clave finding out they knew and kept it from them, or the Clave not knowing and acting on their own before the few of them who already know have a chance to step in and stop them? 

He’s starting to think that no matter how this plays out, each option has a potential for disaster, and while they wait on the sidelines for things to play out naturally all he can do is take his frustrations out on the unfortunate food selection in front of him, poking at a sausage link with his fork but not picking it up to eat. 

Simon allows the silence to sit and drops the question. There’s still hope there, Jace can see it on his face. Hope that this is all going to be alright, that Clary will remember and they’ll get her back and everything will go back to the way it was before. Simon is the only one of them without a worst case scenario already in mind, and Jace wishes he could hold onto that sort of optimism. There was a flash of it back at the art gallery, a moment when Clary said his name in that alley where he thought maybe-- 

“There you are!” The words are quiet to the point that Jace doesn’t even realize he’s part of the ‘you’ being addressed until Underhill is sliding himself into an open seat across from him, next to Isabelle. “I’ve been looking everywhere.” 

Andrew’s words are rushed but quiet, and anyone who doesn’t know the particular reason he might be seeking out the three of them wouldn’t be able to see anything to worry about in his neutral expression. He does, however, glance around once just to make sure no one is close enough to listen before continuing. 

“I think we may have a situation,” Andrew says. Jace puts his fork down, food forgotten. “I was going back through this morning’s footage and saw her walk into the old Jade Wolf restaurant.” 

Jace, Simon, and Izzy exchange tense looks. 

“It’s still under construction, the diner isn’t even  _ open _ , what could she possibly being doing there?” Simon asks, more rhetorically than actually expecting an answer. 

“How long did she stay?” Isabelle follows up, and this time they all turn to Andrew for the answer. 

“She’s still there,” he informs them. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not upset about walking away from this enticing meal.” Already standing up from the table Jace pats his pockets to feel for his stele and the hilt of his seraph blade, just in case. 

“Jace, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea--” Izzy starts, but falls silent at the shake of his head.  

“I’ll be more careful this time. Someone has to check up on her, though. I can glamour and stay out of site. You need to keep your distance from this in case it blows up in our faces.” This sort of thing is expected from him, but Izzy has a reputation to uphold now. She can’t be caught in the middle of this if things go south. “I’ll be fine. I wasn’t exactly  _ trying _ to stay out of sight before when I thought the glamour was enough. I know better now.” 

Izzy’s hesitant but they don’t have many options. If the wrong person shows up to that diner, a werewolf, or a vampire who might hold a grudge, or… 

“Go. Zero contact, report directly back to me the moment you have an update.” Izzy must be thinking along the same lines as him, and he’s grateful for it.  

It doesn’t take him long to reach the restaurant, but when he does he immediately has to hide behind the side wall because Clary is exiting the front door. She looks upset, tucking hair behind her ear and turning her head back in sharp, on-edge movements as if she expects to be followed. He waits long enough for Clary to vanish from view and to make sure no one is about to come chasing out after her before going in the door she left through a few minutes prior. 

“I thought I told you to--” The voice that greets him is a familiar one, though he isn’t used to hearing it so distraught. Normally Maia is the very picture of calm and collected, even in the face of danger. Perhaps  _ more so _ in the face of danger. 

He crosses his arms over his chest and doesn’t break eye contact. “Please, don’t stop on my account. I’d love to hear all about what you told Clary.” 

Maia falls silent in front of him. He doesn’t yell or demand answers, but he doesn’t react with any sympathy either while he watches her falter. If she went behind all of their backs and was talking to Clary,  _befriending_ her again when they were supposed to stay away, then she doesn't deserve understanding. 

“I fucked up,” Maia says finally. “But when she just showed up out of the blue I couldn’t bring myself to kick her out.” 

“Why was she even here?” He's ready to go off on her, a lecture on bringing Clary back into their world when she should know better, but he needs to hear her admit to it first. 

“I don’t know.  _ She _ doesn’t know, not really. She just said she felt  _ drawn _ here, or something. But you didn’t see her, Jace. She looked so lost. I couldn’t -- I had to let her stay.” Jace isn’t sure who Maia is trying to convince more - him or herself. 

“So let me get this straight. As far as Clary knows she jus wandered into the under construction diner of a total stranger who let her hang out for an hour?” 

“...well when you put it like that…” Maia shrugs. 

“Shit, Maia. You can’t just--” Jace starts, but stops just as quickly. He doesn’t have much right to lecture, after all. And it isn’t like Maia went to find Clary. Maia didn’t invite her here.... She didn’t ask for this. She also isn’t telling him the whole store. 

“She looked upset when she was leaving…” Jace prompts, giving Maia a chance to explain on her own before he turns this into more of an interrogation. He’s been down that route with maia before and he doesn’t want it to come to that. 

“That’s because I kicked her out after she painted this-” Maia turns and heads toward one of the back rooms, not bothering to stop and wait to see if Jace will follow. He does, stopping abruptly in the doorway at the sight of the voyance rune on the wall. 

Jace immediately pulls out his phone, snaps a picture, and sends it to Izzy and Alec and Simon, with the caption: ‘ _ Our favorite artist left this at Maia’s. I don’t think waiting is an option’. _

“She said she didn’t remember painting it and wanted to stay and help me cover it up, but I panicked and told her to leave.” The slight widening of Maia’s eyes and the faintest tremor of her bottom lip are the only tells of the fear she’s kept from her voice so far. It comes through when she finally works up the nerve to ask what she’s been thinking this entire time. “Jace, what’s happening with Clary?” 

Jace wishes more than anything he had an answer to that question. 


	9. Part Nine: Magnus & Underhill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus expands his art collection, and Underhill gets a surprise during routine surveillance

Ringing the small metal bell on the desk at the gallery where Clary’s exhibit was held the night before, Magnus waits patiently for someone to emerge from a back room after a slight clunking noise and a call of “sorry, I’ll be right there!”. He looks around, taking the time to glance at the flyers for future shows, events around the city, and art hanging up on the walls or placed strategically around the large, open space in the front reception area. There’s no shortage of talent in this world, he marvels. Even mundanes, taking the most average daily events, can create something truly breathtaking. He’s always tried not to allow his view of art - and artists - to be too heavily influenced by the legendary greats he had the fortune (and occasionally misfortune) of meeting throughout his years. After all, who is to say that the abstract cell phone re-imagining in the corner won’t be the next Van Gough? 

“Sir? Sorry for the wait, is there something I can help you with?” A slightly frazzled voice shakes him from his thoughts, drawing his attention away from the painting and back towards the desk. 

Magnus spins around to see a young lady with short black hair spiked up very similarly to his own, and they share a small smile. “Yes, I called earlier and spoke with someone over the phone about purchasing all of Clary Fairchild’s artwork from the exhibition last night.”

The young girl looks surprised. “Oh! Yes, that was me, I just--” she shakes her head a little. “Sorry, I kinda wrote you off as a prank call. Not that Clary’s work isn’t _wonderful_ , but we almost never sell more than a piece or two from each person at those shows.”   
  
“It’s fine, no need to apologize, Miss..." Magnus trails off, waiting expectantly.  

"Sullivan," the girl supplies.

"Miss Sullivan. They are all for sale, correct?” 

The girl nods again. “Yep! Oh man, Clary’s going to be thrilled when I tell her later. She’s always going on about how they’re all so important to her, but she can’t explain why, and she never thought anyone else would connect with them. But it never stopped her, which I always really admired.” 

“She has a remarkable talent. And you can tell her that she’s wrong about that fear - there are plenty of people who connect with her work.” Magnus knows he shouldn’t be saying anything but he can’t help it. The idea of Clary feeling isolated in the memories fighting to come through, when there were so many people who love her and miss her and would do anything for her… 

“Would you like to leave her a message? We can leave the purchase anonymous, or she can know who you are - sometimes people want to meet up later, and discuss the work? It’s up to you.” The girl shuffles some papers around, turning to the computer as she speaks to pull up a few files, type a few things, and start to print something off while she talks to him. 

“Anonymous.” Magnus tells her, perhaps a bit too quickly because she looks up at him with a questioning glance. She doesn’t ask why, and whether that’s because she doesn’t want to or knows she isn’t allowed to, he’s thankful for it just the same. “I would like to leave a message, also anonymously, if that’s alright?” He adds. 

“Sure,” the girl agrees, grabbing the paper from the printer. “Alright, so here’s the total, I can do cash or card, but we’ve bounced enough checks that those aren’t accepted anymore.” 

Magnus reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a rectangular plastic card, handing it over without hesitation before even looking at the price on the sheet. The girl also pushes over a notepad before turning back to the computer system. “You can write your note while this processes. Will you be picking up the pieces yourself, or do you want them delivered?” 

“I can pick them up.” Magnus reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cell phone, pulling up a number he’s affectionately saved as ‘Samson’ because he knows how much it annoys Simon. 

 **M:** **_Are you and your van free? I’ve just acquired us some very valuable art_ ** **_  
_ ** **S:** **_...I don’t think we really have time for redecorating right now, Magnus._ ** **_  
_ ** **  
** Magnus shakes his head, rolling his eyes. 

 **M:** **_It’s Clary’s, Simon. I just bought everything from her exhibition. I need help getting it back to the Institute, as I can’t exactly portal it out of here.  
_ ** **S:** **_Oh. Yeah, sure, I’ll be there in 20._ **

Mangus pockets the phone again and turns back to the paper on the desk in front of him. He considers it at great length, putting the pen down to the pad, starting to write a word or two, and then ripping that page off and starting again. He goes through three sheets before he’s satisfied, just as the young woman returns with his card. 

“Here’s the note for Clary. Again, I would appreciate it if she didn’t know who purchased any of this.” He knows he’s only drawing more attention to it by mentioning it again, but he’d rather the woman think he’s shady than have her go off telling Clary anyway, especially since it sounds like the two of them are friends. 

The girl takes the paper, reads the note, and smiles. 

It says, in beautifully looping script, “Clary - You possess remarkable talent. Never doubt your vision.” 

\---

Simon arrives 20 minutes later, as promised, with his van which is currently spraypainted entirely black. This, somehow, looks even more questionable than when it held the name and images of his latest band. 

“In-between band names again?” Magnus questions, thinking that this is exactly the sort of van the police would pull over just to make sure the back isn’t full of puppies and candy to lure small children away. That, or surveillance tech. 

“Yeah, something like that.” Simon doesn’t have the heart to admit that he tried to hire another artist to do some work on it, but the end result felt so wrong to see there in place of Clary’s usual designs that he painted over it the next day. “Izzy said she doesn’t want them at the Institute, though. Too many prying eyes there. But if you can keep them at the Loft and just make sure the wards will let us in to look at them when you’re back in Alicante, she’d owe you one.” 

Magnus sighs. Adjusting the wards wouldn’t be an issue but he was hoping to keep himself a little more removed from all of this. Certainly more removed than keeping some of the biggest evidence of Clary’s memories returning within the walls of his own home. 

“Fine,” he agrees reluctantly. There is security at the Institute, and it’d be unlikely more than a trip or two to the room they’d stash these in wouldn’t set off a dozen red flags, especially if he  and Alec remain involved. They load up the van as carefully as they can, and Magnus opens a portal from the inside of the van to the Loft to save them the hassle of stairs. 

While Simon props up the paintings and sculptures around the living room Magnus goes about adjusting the wards, reaching his magic out to allow for certain energy signatures to come and go at will. Alexander’s, of course, was already there, as was Isabelle’s. He adds Simon and Jace before closing the connection again. 

“The wards are all set,” Magnus announces.   
  
“This is the last of the art,” Simon declares a moment later, propping a painting up against a wall. “Will you still be here later?” 

Magnus wants to be, but a part of him knows that he’s already too close to this as it is. Alexander wanted them to hold as much plausible deniability as possible, and here he was purchasing Clary’s artwork and hoarding it in his apartment like stolen goods, away from prying eyes. 

“Probably not, unless you need me for something. I have some work to tend to in Alicante.” At least he isn’t lying. There’s never a shortage of things for him to do there, in the world still adjusting to the acceptance of Warlocks and Downworlders within its borders. Dispelling centuries of misconceptions and prejudices isn’t an easy task, after all. 

“We’ll call if we do,” Simon promises before heading back out to his van. 

Magnus figures he has about 30 minutes to himself before he needs to be back and before he runs the risk of Simon getting back to the others and one of them deciding they want to come have a look immediately. He takes the time to go over each piece once, taking photos to show Alec as he does. 

He recognizes almost all of them - Edom, the Seelie Realm, objects that very closely resemble Shadowhunter weapons like steles and Clary’s old dual kindjals, figures along a lake that could only be Lake Lyn... there are only a handful of paintings he can’t place - one that has a _lot_ of white, for instance, and one that seems to have a rowboat as a primary focus - but Magnus has the sinking suspicion that even those are related to her missing memories, just the ones he isn’t privy to. 

This is so much worse than he thought when it was just seeing through a single glamour and remembering Jace by sight. That much, at least, Magnus can chalk up to a shoddy glamour applied by the Shadowhunter. But how long had Clary been painting these? Just a few weeks? A few months? The whole year? What more did she remember? 

His phone buzzes and it’s Alec, asking when he’ll be back and if he learned anything new. 

 **M:** **_On my way now. I have plenty of updates, but I’m not sure you’re going to like them._ **

\---

Underhill is left temporarily in charge while Isabelle and Jace ran off to look at art or something. Honestly, he’s doing his best to keep his name clear of the worst of whatever sneaking around they’re doing - it’s bad enough he knows about Clary remembering Jace, and that on top of his usual surveillance he’s supposed to be tapping into cameras to keep an eye on her. Not that he isn’t willing to help, and he’ll keep his mouth shut even though not telling Lorenzo is _killing_ him inside, but he knows how badly this could all backfire, and he has his own job and integrity to think of when it comes to covering himself if it does. The more plausible deniability he has, the better. 

Except it doesn’t look like he’ll have to switch from Institute surveillance to Clary surveillance tonight, he realizes, dread welling like a pit in his stomach.  
  
Standing outside of the Institute, just beyond the glamour, is a very familiar redhead staring up at a building Underhill prays to the Angel she can’t _truly_ see.


	10. Part Ten: Clarissa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarissa is about to get a shock much larger than the news of the huge artwork sale she just made; and as life-changing as that news is, what happens next is going to change her entire life. 
> 
> ...again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trust me when I say that writing Clarissa for an entire chapter was the weirdest feeling. But I like the idea that she has new nicknames this past year, uses her full name more often, etc.

Clarissa has no idea what she’s doing in this part of town. She hasn’t stopped wandering the streets ever since Maia kicked her out of the… whatever that place was. It didn’t have a name on the outside and she knew it wasn’t the Jade Wolf anymore, but she doesn’t know what it’s turning into. Another restaurant, that much was obvious to Clarissa from her short time inside. She hadn’t even bothered to ask the girl who was nice enough to let her stay despite the fact that she knows how crazy she sounded showing up out of the blue like that. 

Clarissa imagines she’ll find out when it opens, because there’s not a chance in hell she’s going back there any time soon. Probably not even once it opens, because how can she show her face around Maia after whatever that was? 

The symbol she drew seems burned onto her brain, and it isn’t the only one. What does it mean? Where did it come from? Was it offensive, and that’s why Maia reacted the way she had? Clarissa thinks she should know but it’s all just out of reach and her head starts to ache every time she thinks about it for more than a few seconds. It’s probably a blessing in disguise that Maia kicked her out because the longer she stared at the thing she painted the stronger the dull throbbing behind her temples grew. 

She feels a little better now, the air cool against her skin. She runs her fingers through her hair  to get out some dried-up chips of paint while she walks. She started walking just to distance herself at first but it quickly becomes apparent that she isn’t walking back towards school, or her dorm. When she passes by all of her usual food or coffee stops a part of her registers that she doesn’t know where she’s going, she’s just  _ walking _ . 

...except that isn’t quite true, is it? This doesn’t feel like aimless wandering and that scares her even more than the idea of getting herself properly lost in the city, because while nothing in this area looks familiar to her it all  _ feels _ familiar. 

The sound of her phone ringing shakes her from her thoughts. It’s Rebecca, her roommate, and she almost doesn’t answer it; the only reason she does is so Rebecca doesn’t get worried and send out a search party for her or something. 

“What’s up?” Clarissa asks, feet continuing to carry her forward. As she walks she’s positive she sees a guy and a girl with tattoos just like the guy from the art show - Jace, she remembers. Just like Jace’s tattoos. She feels the ache begin in her temples again and ignores it. “Actually, I’m glad you called. Remember the guy from the show last night?” 

She hears Rebecca try not to laugh. “You mean your imaginary biker boy?” 

“He’s real,” Clary states with conviction. Is she trying to convince herself, or Rebecca? She chased the guy outside, found out (or more like remembered) his name, and then he was gone. Except not a single other person at the show remembers seeing him; even the people who tried to stop her as she ran out of the building because she looked upset claimed they just saw her running out alone. “He was  _ there _ . I touched his tattoo.” 

“I’m just saying,” Rebecca says conversationally, her words drawn out as forgets for a moment that she’s the one who called to say something, not the other way around. “If there was a guy there matching  _ that _ description, I’d remember.” Clarissa can hear her roommate sigh, no doubt conjuring the mental image of her description of Jace and rolls her eyes. “Anyway, why are you asking?” 

“I could’ve sworn I just saw two people with the same tattoos he had. What if they’re in some sort of secret organization? Or a gang?” 

“That’d be hot,” Rebecca says without missing a beat, and Clary rolls her eyes again.  “Anyway, enough about him. I have the  _ best _ news, ’Rissa! You’re never going to guess!” There’s an almost palpable excitement in the girl’s tone that sounds through the phone. 

“Tell me you finally got the nerve to ask Jessie out and she said yes,” Clarissa guesses, deciding to embrace the distraction of her roommate’s call rather than fixating on what has to be a coincidence with the thick black tattoos.  

“What?! Absolutely not! She came by the exhibition last night and I barely managed to remember the word ‘thanks’ when she complimented my watercolor. And you think I can string an entire sentence together?” The voice over the phone concludes with a laugh. 

“Welp, I’m out of guesses then. What is it?” Clarissa asks, half-listening to her roommate and half-focused on the fact that the area around her is getting real sketchy, real fast. 

“Someone just bought all of you artwork.” 

Clarissa stops walking. “You’re joking.” 

“Why would I joke about that?! The sale was  _ huge _ , easily the biggest we’ve made all year from any of the exhibitions, let alone one artist. Congratulations!!” Clarissa listens for any sign of jealousy, or a hint that this is just a prank to get her hopes up. But Rebecca isn’t like that and she has no reason to start now.

“ _ All of them? _ ” Clarissa repeats, incredulous. Her steps slow as she walks, trying to process that. “Who was it?” 

Rebecca makes a noncommittal noise over the phone. “Anonymous purchase. Left you a nice note, though. I’ll bring it back to the room so you don’t have to come by the gallery’s office for it.” 

“Thanks,” Clarissa says, the word sounding breathless. This changes everything. All of her concerns over getting a place after graduation when her scholarship ran out were solved in one fell swoop, at least for the first few months. It’s a better start than she hoped for previously, putting serious consideration into budgeting just how long through the summer months she could stretch food money if she didn’t mind sofa surfing around a few friends’ apartments. 

She stops walking then, not because of the news she just heard, but because she’s here. 

Here, it seems, is an abandoned church on Deighton. The windows are cracked, vines creep up the sides of the building nearly to the top of the tallest points, and broken stairs lead up to a set of doors. Everything around her is overgrown, as if it hadn't been tended to in months, years probably. 

“Hey, I have to go,” she says suddenly. “I’ll see you back in the room later, you can fill me in on the mystery buyer then.” She doesn’t wait for a reply before hanging up and slipping her cell phone into her pocket. 

This is fine. It’s the middle of the day so there’s some light despite the cloudy sky, the only small comfort she seems to find. The street is inexplicably empty of any passersby, she realizes, as if people are intentionally avoiding it. Maybe they are, considering the vague sense of being watched she feels despite the lack of eyes around her. Looking straight up she stares at a window, one that’s empty and shadowed.

She feels like she’s been here before. 

She feels like she’s  _ meant _ to be here now. 

That feeling drives her forward, taking several steps toward the decrepit building with a renewed sense of determination, only to pause at the foot of the stairs. This is insane. What if this is some sort of meth house? What if she walks in on a drug deal with armed gang members or something? Suddenly the dull ache from before pings across her forehead in a sting of discomfort which lingers this time, making it difficult to focus. 

She turns and takes a few steps back, pauses, and begins pacing back and forth in front of the building. Every last rational thought in her mind begs her to turn and walk away before something goes wrong, like with Maia today or when she tried to talk to Jace the night before. So far her instincts have brought her nothing but trouble, and to walk into this place alone will certainly be the height of her poor life choices. 

She stares up at the building again but for a moment she doesn’t see a neglected and a damaged facade: for a moment she sees an impressive structure with shining stained glass windows. She sees two people walk past her who definitely were  _ not  _ there a moment ago, walking straight through the now-open doors doors, and for a second she catches a glimpse of a long, bright hallway. And then just as quickly it’s gone, the doors shut again, the cracks and vines and worn down stone in place in front of her. 

“What the…” she mutters, blinking a few times in shock. She saw that. She  _ definitely _ saw that. She can already hear Rebecca calling her crazy again when she goes back to their room and tells her about this… but maybe not if she has proof this time. Her head is throbbing now but she resolutely ignores it in her newfound determination, pulling her phone out to get a photo this time. 

Clarissa walks towards the stairs again, up one and then another, before that brief flicker of another building creeps into the edges of her vision, just out of sight. It’s as if it’s lurking in her periphery, gone every time she turns to look. But she tries anyway, focusing in on it, staring not at what she  _ can  _ see but what she feels as if she  _ should  _ see… 

The dull aching in her head quickly turns into a steady pounding of her pulse behind her temples, so loud it’s almost deafening. A second later her head is in her hands and she’s doubled over, vision swimming. 

She thinks she feels a hand on her shoulder but she can’t be certain before her vision stops spinning and fades to black entirely, consumed by the dark relief of unconsciousness. 


	11. Part Eleven: Underhill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew needs to stop Clary from walking into the Institute, and when Magnus doesn't answer there's only one other Warlock he can turn to.

The moment he spots Clary outside the Institute, Underhill does his best not to panic.

He fails almost immediately. 

 This is not good. This is very, very not good, and there isn’t a single Shadowhunter inside the building with him who knows exactly what’s going on with Clary’s recent developments. Okay, technically  _ none _  of them know exactly what’s going on, but at least Isabelle, Jace, and Simon have an idea. But this is a secret, and he can’t exactly turn to the nearest Shadowhunter and go ‘hey I need help with Clary because she remembers us sort of’ without potentially getting the others, Alec and Magnus included, in a world of trouble. 

Clary paces towards the door, but stops and turns back around again, buying him a little more time. What he needs is someone who can stop her before she tries to get inside. Someone who can get here almost instantaneously. 

...someone like a warlock, who can knock her out and make her forget ever being here today. 

Underhill takes out his phone and tries to call Magnus. It’s a number he has for emergencies, if he desperately needs to contact Alec but can’t reach him. He isn’t sure this qualifies as a true  _ emergency _  - but he’s the only person who’s in the know enough to help just then. His hopes soar when he hears the sound of Magnus’ voice only to plummet again a moment later. 

_ “You’ve reached the voicemail of Magnus Bane. I can almost promise you I would rather be taking this call than at whatever boring meeting I’m stuck in, but--”  _

“Shit,” Andrew clicks the prerecorded message off, having forgotten all about the meeting both he and Alec were in just then. He’s about to go down there himself when he sees two other Shadowhunters on camera coming down the street and back towards the Institute. He doesn’t know how much she can see but he can’t chance her seeing them… he can’t gamble on whatever reaction the rest of the Shadowhunters at the institute might have if they find out she’s here again. He hates to think it, but their lives were a lot quieter in the Pre- and Post-Clarissa Fairchild periods, and he’s willing to bet there are a lot of people here who would rather things remain that way. 

He’s out of options. He doesn’t have time to run his decision by Izzy first and can only hope he isn’t making a huge mistake. “Easier to ask forgiveness than permission…” he mutters to himself as the phone rings twice before someone picks up on the other end. 

“Andrew? Aren’t you at--” 

“There’s no time,” Andrew cuts his boyfriend off. “I need you to portal outside the Institute  _ right now _  and stop Clary from coming in.” 

Andrew’s eyes are glued to the screen as the two Shadowhunters round the corner, spot Clary, but continue around her assuming she can’t see them. His heartbeat races with every passing second, watching Clary’s head turn to look at them, the way her eyes widen at the doors opening in front of her. 

She can see them. She can see the building.

“Clary?” Lorenzo repeats, clearly confused, but there’s no time to explain. 

“ _ Please _ ,” Andrew begs. “I need you to trust me.” 

It’s a lot to ask. They’ve been dating for a year, since Magnus and Alec’s wedding, but it was very casual for the first few months. Their schedules rarely aligned what with all of Lorenzo’s duties and appointments as the High Warlock of Brooklyn, but there was a notable shift a few months back when things started to feel a lot more serious. They talked more - not just small talk, but about the politics of their worlds, the impact their relationship might have on their personal lives, should things keep progressing the way they were. 

It hasn’t been perfect, but they’re still together, and that alone speaks volumes. But what he’s asking Lorenzo to do, with no guidelines or proper explanation, is a risk. Filling him in after he shows up ( _ if he shows up) _  is a risk. He’s asking the High Warlock to show up at an Institute and stop someone who used to be a Shadowhunter. 

On the monitor Clary makes it up two of the stairs before she stops, leaning over with her head in her hands. 

The phone goes silent, and for a moment Andrew is convinced he overstepped, asking a favor too large and crossing a line by abusing his personal connection with Lorenzo.

But then he sees it. The shimmer on the screen in front of him just a few feet behind Clary, the glow of a portal opening up that allows Andrew to release the breath he didn’t notice he held caught in his chest until that moment of relief.  _ Lorenzo came. _  Andrew stays in the surveillance room just long enough to see Lorenzo come up behind Clary, place a hand on her shoulder, and then catch her as she falls backwards, limp, before he’s activating his speed rune and making his way outside. 

As relieved as he is to see Lorenzo, it isn’t half as relieved as Lorenzo is to see him. 

“Oh good, you’re actually here. I was starting to think this was some elaborate set-up, some ridiculous Shadowhunter test of regulations or loyalties.” Lorenzo attempts to free a hand enough to wave dismissively, but he’s still supporting an entirely unconscious Clary. Speaking of… “I hope this is alright, dear,” Lorenzo says, the casual endearment sliding out with no one around to overhear. They have a very strict rule of professional courtesy around any other Shadowhunters or Warlocks, but the coast is clear and it’s nice to hear during his moment of panic. “You didn’t exactly provide me with a plan and she appeared to be in a great deal of pain.” 

“It’s fine,” Andrew reassures him, despite the fact that none of this is actually fine. “Thank you for coming.” The implied  _ thank you for trusting me _  what he actually wants to say, but that’s a conversation he doesn’t have time for just then. 

“Shall we take her inside, then?” Lorenzo asks, shifting his weight uncomfortably beneath her, but stops at the violent shake of Andrew’s head. 

“No! I can’t let her in, she’s technically a mundane now. She shouldn’t even know this place exists, if I let her see the inside…” Andrew is still shaking his head as he pulls his phone back out of his pocket and dials a new number. 

“Isabelle? Nothings… okay, something’s wrong, but it’s under control. Mostly.” He frowns at the phone. “Clary came to the Institute.” Another pause. “She tried to come in but I called Lo- Mr. Rey to come knock her out, uh, gently.” 

Lorenzo looks like he’s losing patience by the second. 

“Of course I tried Magnus first,” Andrew starts, shooting an apologetic look at Lorenzo, who he knows will  _ definitely _  take that knowledge personally. “He and Alec are in that meeting in Alicante, there wasn’t time for anyone else to get here. Listen, we can debate this all you want later, but right now I have the High Warlock of Brooklyn holding an unconscious Clary Fairchild outside of the New York Institute, and we can’t very well bring her inside so what would you like me to do with her?” His exasperation seems to get the point across and he only pauses a few seconds to get an answer before nodding. “Understood, we’ll meet you there.” 

Andrew hangs up the phone and meets the curious expression on Lorenzo’s face. “We?” 

“Unless you’re going to make me carry an unconscious teenager through the streets of New York to Bane’s old Loft,” Underhill says, leaving the option open. 

“I don’t know. Sure you don’t want to call  _ Magnus _  up to ask first?” Lorenzo counters. 

“You know I would’ve called you first if it were up to me. But no one was supposed to know about Clary, not yet.” If Andrew thinks this is going to make things better, he’s very mistaken. 

“I dislike Shadowhunters keeping secrets that impact the entire Shadow World even more than I dislike coming in second-choice to Bane,” Lorenzo points out, his words more tense than Andrew is used to hearing when it’s just the two of them.  _ Fuck _ . Despite the fact that Lorenzo gets along much better with Magnus, Alec, and the rest of the Shadowhunters ever since their trip to Edom, there are still some lingering rivalries between him and the other Warlock, and more than a few deep rooted trust issues regarding the Shadowhunters in general. Turns out a year of goodwill isn’t enough to undo centuries of systematic oppression and prejudice, not that Andrew blames him. 

But this? This certainly isn’t helping. 

“However,” Lorenzo continues, looking from Andrew to Clary. “I believe I’m owed an explanation at this juncture, so I suppose we best get going.” Another portal opens up, and Lorenzo motions for him to go through first. The fact that Lorenzo doesn’t leave him to fend for himself is a good sign, no matter what motivations he plays the action off under. 

Stepping through the portal Andrew is immediately caught off-guard by the artwork everywhere. He forgot all about Clary’s exhibition pieces until just then - apparently Magnus, or one of the others, had brought them all here. Lorenzo is equally thrown off by the paintings and sculptures, eyeing them critically as he walks Clary to the nearby sofa and places her gently down. 

Andrew makes his way over to one of the paintings, followed by Lorenzo, though neither of them directly address the other right away. Andrew isn’t positive where he stands right now, and whether Lorenzo’s comment back at the Institute was more of mild annoyance or something heavier. 

“I didn’t know Bane took such a sudden liking to modern abstract art…” Lorenzo muses, and Andrew is about to explain when they both freeze at the sound of footsteps through a portal opening behind them. 

“That’s Lightwood-Bane,  _ Rey, _ ” Magnus says. “And I haven’t. Not that Biscuit’s art isn’t lovely, but I certainly don’t want to cover my apartment with renditions of Edom.”  

They follow Magnus’ gaze to a painting in heavy reds, oranges, and dark browns. Andrew doesn’t recognize it but feels Lorenzo tense beside him.

“I told you he’d tell Lorenzo,” Magnus half-whispers to Alec after he steps through the portal beside Magnus, loud enough that he knows everyone will hear. 

“Don’t worry, tried to he call you first,” Lorenzo says, bristling slightly. “And he hasn’t  _ spilled _  anything yet. I seem to remember another occasion in the not-too-distant past where the Shadowhunters kept a key piece of Shadow World intel from you while  _ you _  were the High Warlock. Remind me how that played out for everybody?”  

To Andrew’s surprise instead of stepping forward to confront Lorenzo’s accusatory statement, Alec actually flinches at the memory. “There was nothing to keep from you. We didn’t  _ know _  anything… we still don’t, not really.” Andrew listens as Alec takes full responsibility for the decision to keep this quiet, even though he knows for a fact the majority of it is Isabelle’s call discounting the fact that they all played a role in keeping it quiet. 

“Somebody in this room seems to know plenty,” Lorenzo observes, looking from the paintings to the unconscious girl on the sofa. “Plenty that she  _ shouldn’t _ .” 

“I didn’t want to create a panic over nothing. It’s only been a day and I told them not to tell anyone until we had something solid to report.” Andrew sees what Alec is doing, trying to shoulder the burden of the order given so that Lorenzo might forgive Andrew a little easier for his role in all of this, and while Andrew appreciates it he isn’t sure it’s going to work. He flashes Alec a grateful smile from where he stands slightly behind Lorenzo. 

Thankfully, Lorenzo isn’t the type to start something here. This is a discussion they’ll have later, without a doubt; for now they have business to attend to. 

“Wonderful. It’s only been a day and you  _ already _  needed my assistance. Clearly this grand mystery of yours is in wonderful hands.” Lorenzo sighs, but turns back to Alec and Magnus expectantly. “Is anybody going to actually enlighten me as to what’s going on here, or are we just going to keep dancing around the fact that you hadn’t planned on telling me if you didn’t need my help?” 

“I’ll fill you in, and make us drinks” Magnus says, walking over and leading Lorenzo off towards the kitchen. “But Alexander wasn’t lying, we really don’t know the extent of things yet…” their voices trail away, leaving only Alec and Underhill left in the living room with Clary. 

“I’m sorry, Alec. Magnus didn’t answer, and I don’t have Loss’s number, and-” 

Alec waves a dismissive hand. “You made the right call. There’s a reason we trust you with these sorts of things, Underhill. You do what’s right, and you do what you have to. Those two are probably already over their flash of old rivalries,” Alec points out, glancing briefly back towards the kitchen. “And I’m sorry I put you in that position in the first place.” 

Underhill shrugs. “It’s my own fault, really. Ever since I covered for you at the bar that night, it seems as if my job duties expanded to ‘Secret Keeper’.” There’s no bitterness in his tone, however, and the small smile that accompanies the statement comes with a light laugh. He’s glad Alec trusts him. He’s glad they’re friends, despite the trouble it brings sometimes, and doesn’t regret the trouble of being a part-time confidant of the Inquisitor for one second. 

Alec laughs as well. 

“Drinks for the Shadowhunters?” Magnus calls from the kitchen, and Andrew almost agrees before he remembers why he’s here in the first place. 

“No, I’m on dut-- _ shit _ , I’m on duty.” In the rush of getting Clary away from the Institute and somewhere safe, and then the bit of drama with Lorenzo, he nearly forgot all about what he was doing when all of that went down. 

Lorenzo and Magnus come back out into the living area and Andrew bites down on his lower lip as he looks at his boyfriend, wondering if he should chance asking him for another favor while he’s clearly upset with him. 

He doesn’t have to ask - Lorenzo sighs, resigned,  and a moment later there’s a portal opened up just behind Andrew. “Get back to work, dear. We can talk after your shift.” 

Andrew smiles at that, knowing the ‘dear’ is definitely a good sign. “Thank you. Good luck with…” Andrew trails off, sparing one last glance at Clary, before vanishing through the portal and back to the front of the Institute. 

So much for staying out of the worst of it. At least it’s out of his hands for now. The rest of his shift is quiet and when he texts Lorenzo afterward he doesn’t get a reply - whether he’s busy, or ignoring him, or already asleep, Andrew can’t tell, but he embraces the excuse to collapse into bed instead, pushing it off to deal with tomorrow. He’s had more than enough excitement for one day and has the sinking suspicion this might be one of the last nights of good sleep he’ll get for quite some time.


	12. Part Twelve: Lorenzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorenzo is starting to wonder if he's the only one removed enough from a personal investment in Clary to make rational decisions, while Clary decides to trust her instincts, despite that not playing out so well thus far.

Lorenzo watches as Andrew disappears through the portal back to the Institute, which will deposit him right outside the front doors where they left a short while back. The moment his boyfriend is out of site he feels a small bit of relief - he’s a different person around Andrew. Softer. Kinder. Maybe a _different_ person isn’t the correct way to look at it - he’s more _himself_ around Andrew. It isn’t often he feels as if he has something to prove around him, or a reputation already formed to uphold. It’s refreshing… except for the moments it isn’t. 

Those moments are when Lorenzo interacts with Andrew around the other Shadowhunters at the Institute, where both of their easy smiles and casual first name addressing seems to be something of an oddity… and then the moments like this, where Andrew’s duty as a Shadowhunter, or Lorenzo’s obligations as a Warlock, come before their desire to be open and honest with one another. 

Of course Lorenzo understands why Andrew didn’t tell him last night. It isn’t the first time either of them has kept something from the other, and it won’t be the last, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less when it happens.

Magnus fills him in with a quick summary of the events since Clary saw Jace at the art show, and Lorenzo listens in silence, taking in every detail with a careful ear. He’s finishing the story as they walk back out with drinks in hand - Magnus with two, one for himself and one he hands over to his husband who is looking down at Clary on the sofa while he waits for them. 

“So it’s more than just flashes of memory if she’s showing up outside the Institute. Her knowledge of the Shadow World is returning much faster than you anticipated.” 

“Or maybe not. Who knows how long this has been going on before now… perhaps her memories started to return the day after the wedding, and she simply ignored them until now.” Magnus points out. 

Lorenzo hums in consideration. “True.” They all look down at Clary on the sofa. “So we don’t focus on the past, and turn our attention fully to the present. The fact of the matter is that she’s remembering, and she’s remembering _everything_ . Why is this such a terrible thing, again?” Lorenzo asks, still unsure why they aren’t celebrating the fact that their friend is returning to them, or furthermore helping her remember _faster_ to get her back properly? It’s certainly what he would do in their position. 

“Because,” Alec starts to explain. “The angels took her memories and her abilities as a punishment - that’s the sort of power they have. If it looks like we’re intentionally trying to work around their decision, there’s no telling what the ramifications of that might be.” 

Lorenzo shakes his head. “You and your _Angels_ ,” he mutters. “The whole thing is ridiculous. If they aren’t powerful enough to keep a teenager from fighting through a mental block then perhaps they should rethink their hierarchy.” 

Magnus snorts. “That’s the same mindset I took. If they’re that powerful, then it should’ve been permanent. Clearly it was meant to be undone eventually.”

Alec just shakes his head. “No. You don’t just _temporarily_ take away someone’s runes.”

“So what do you propose we do with her?” Lorenzo asks, eyebrow raised. 

Alec gives a little start at that. “We?” he asks, surprised. 

“Yes, Lightwood-” 

“- _Lightwood-Bane,_ ” Magnus corrects again, but Lorenzo simply rolls his eyes and continues. How they expected to know which of them he’s addressing while they’re together if they went by the same name is ridiculous, and he’s positive Magnus only makes a big deal out of it to annoy him and not because he truly cares what Lorenzo refers to him as. 

“- _we_. Because the last time I checked, your Head of Security called me in to knock out a former Shadowhunter on Institute grounds, and now that I’m all up to speed on what’s happening within my jurisdiction as High Warlock of Brooklyn, this is - unfortunately - very much my problem now, too.” 

Magnus sighs, clearly not thrilled with this development, but Alec nods. 

“You’re right. I just didn’t expect you to be so eager to help.” There’s a silence after that, one that none of them fill with an explanation. Lorenzo has been much better lately about not only serving the Warlocks under him, but also the Shadow World at large. Of course, being in Alicante now, Alec and Magnus aren’t around to witness most of it. 

“Well, I am. So don’t make me regret it.” Lorenzo huffs, almost immediately regretting it when Alec and Magnus both exchange a smirk. 

“How long until she wakes up?” Alec asks, walking over to where Clary rests on the sofa, stopping to brush a small strand of hair out of her face. 

“Not very long. I used a very light magic to render her unconscious. Simply enough to apply again if the effects need to be lengthened, significantly harder to break through in the event you want them shortened. There wasn’t much time for details over the phone when Andrew called so I erred on the safe side.” 

Alec nods, pacing back over towards the balcony doors before turning back. 

“Thank you,” Alec says to him suddenly, continuing when Lorenzo doesn’t reply. “I just realized I hadn’t said that yet. You didn’t have to come, and I know the position it potentially put you in, so I want you to know I appreciate it. We all do,” Alec adds, and he doesn’t have to say he’s talking mostly about Andrew. 

“Good thing I did, otherwise I may never have known about what’s going on. What if she’d shown up the Dumort? Or tried to enter the Seelie Realm?” He demands. There’s a barely concealed edge of anger under his words. If it were much longer than a day or two he’d likely be furious, but he has to give them the benefit of the doubt that they would’ve done the right thing had he not been called in to help first. Still. “I know the potential threat to the Warlocks specifically has the least possibility, but-” 

“You’re right,” Alec cuts him off. “I should’ve told you right away. All of you. I’ll have Isabelle call up Maia and Lily and fill them in, too. I don’t want a repeat of the Soul Sword.” Alec’s gaze drops with the statement, and Magnus reaches over to place a hand comfortingly in the crook of Alec’s arm. Even Lorenzo feels a bit guilty for bringing that up earlier as well: the loss to the Downworld was great that day, and it’s a guilt Lorenzo knows Alec carries with him still, and likely always would. 

“Good,” is the only reply Lorenzo offers. 

Just then a small, muffled groan sounds from the sofa, and the redhead begins to shift on her side, bringing a hand up to her face as she blinks her eyes open. 

“Ugh, what happened--” she starts, groggy words cut abruptly short at the sight of the three men in front of her and the dawning realization that she doesn’t know where she is. 

Lorenzo watches her sit upright, pressing herself as far back against the sofa as she can, scrambling to put as much distance between them and her as possible. When they make no move to stop her she bolts for the door, but Magnus prevents it from opening with a quick wave of his hand. 

Somehow none of them, in their desire to help Clary and ensure that she’s safe and taken care of, stopped to consider the fact that she wouldn’t _know_ that. 

“It’s alright, we aren’t going to hurt you,” Magnus speaks first. 

“Oh, that’s reassuring. You just kidnapped me and…” her words drop off at the sight of her artwork spread out around the apartment. “Are you _stalking_ me?” 

“I can assure you that _I’m_ not stalking you, but as for these two…” Lorenzo starts, stopping only when Magnus hits him on the arm. He gives a slight laugh, because _technically_ speaking they were watching her on the cameras, and Jace had been watching her at the art show, and really the Shadowhunters involved were doing everything just shy of proper stalking. 

“Don’t listen to him, Clary” Magnus tells her. “We aren’t stalking you.” 

“Just the kidnapping, then?” She snaps, a bit of fire behind her eyes.

“That isn’t what this is-” Magnus continues, but Clary isn’t hearing it. 

“So I’m free to go?” Clary counters, and Lorenzo can’t help another small huff of a laugh. He likes this girl, it’s a pity he didn’t get to know her very well before, well, _everything_.  

“Not yet,” Magnus says carefully. “But you will be, I promise.”  

Lorenzo raises an eyebrow at that. Does Magnus mean that, or is he just saying it so she calms down. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Magnus continues, distracting Lorenzo from his thoughts. 

“The last thing I remember was being outside an abandoned building… except it wasn’t abandoned. I saw people go inside, then my headache came back, and I… I think I passed out. How did I get here?” She’s still pressed against the far wall of the Loft, by the door she couldn’t get to open. They can see her eyes dart towards the balcony and the rooms towards the back, but so far she doesn’t make a move toward them. 

“Yes, when I found you it looked as if you were in a great deal of pain. How are you feeling now?” Lorenzo asks her, fighting the urge to move towards her and run a bit of magical diagnostics, as it were. She can’t get out but that doesn’t mean he has to abuse her captivity. 

“Fine.” Her response is short, expression guarded as she eyes Lorenzo with an added layer of wariness at the knowledge that he’s the one who found her. She tries the door handle again, sighs, and makes her way slowly back towards the sofa. Alec, Magnus, and himself remain where they are - she seems to relax when they show their willingness to keep their distance. 

“You aren’t going to try and run again?” Lorenzo asks. When Clary looks like she might argue he shakes his head. “Don’t think I didn’t see you sizing up the potential exits.” 

“No,” she says slowly. “Just tell me what you want from me.” 

Lorenzo looks to Magnus, who looks to Alec. “We didn’t think this far ahead, did we?” Magnus mutters. 

Clary’s eyes follow Magnus’ and land on Alec. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” she points out, looking at him a moment or two longer before giving a quiet gasp. “Your neck,” she says, tilting her head slightly to get a better look at the rune there. “It’s just like Jace’s, and the two people who went into that building.” 

Lorenzo watches Alec’s face remain impressively impassive. 

“Yes,” Alec says finally, surprising Lorenzo. He knows the whole point of this is to keep Clary away from the Institute and the places she’s remembering. A minute ago Alec was the one defending the decision that she couldn’t have them back, that it was some nonsensical _will of the Angels_. Why be honest with her now? 

Clary frowns. “You seem familiar. Did we have a class together?” 

“No.” Alec shakes his head and Lorenzo notes a look of disappointment cross his features, but just for a moment. I’m a friend of Jace’s. We used to know each other.” 

“Then why don’t I remember you?” Clary’s voice is quieter now, worry flitting across her features despite her best attempts to look brave in the face of her situation. 

“Because you forgot. You forgot a lot of things that you’re starting to remember now, aren’t you, Clary?” 

Clary’s breath hitches at that, her brows furrowing. “Stop calling me Clary,” she deflects instead of answering. 

“That was the name on your exhibition,” Magnus points out. 

“Only because my psychotic Art Professor couldn’t fit ‘Clarissa Fairchild’ onto the program in full and still have it be ‘ _aesthetically pleasing’_ ,” she says with an eye roll. “Everyone calls me Clarissa, or just Rissa.” 

“Of course, Clarissa, whatever you’re comfortable with,” Magnus agrees. 

“...were we friends too?” Clary asks, eyes trained on Magnus’. “There’s something so familiar about you. All of you, actually. Is that why you haven’t hurt me yet?” 

The slight waver behind the ‘yet’ pulls at Lorenzo’s heartstrings. 

“We’re not going to hurt you at all,” Magnus reassures her. “I know it might sound a little crazy, but that place you went to earlier... you shouldn’t know about it. We’re just trying to keep everyone safe, especially you.”

“It actually doesn’t sound that crazy at all,” Clary admits. “And I trust you. Don’t ask me why, because I know I definitely shouldn’t, but I just _do_.”

Lorenzo watches the scene unfold as an outsider. It’s a position he finds himself it less and less these days, the longer Magnus and Alec are away from New York and Lorenzo is left to handle business mostly unchecked, trusted by Isabelle and the others more with each passing day since Edom, and the wedding, and Andrew. New issues that arise are his to deal with as he sees fit, his input in the Downworld Council never dismissed, but this? This feels a lot like the start of his appointment to High Warlock all over again. 

“Do you think it wise to prompt her this way?” Lorenzo asks Alec in a hushed tone, one Magnus might overhear but Clary will not. 

“I don’t know,” Alec admits. “I just need to know _how much_ she knows.” 

“We could try to go into her head?” Lorenzo suggests. “Perhaps call upon the Silent--”  

At that moment a noise breaks through the relative quiet of the apartment. A cell phone rings, loud but muffled by the fabric of Clary’s jeans. They all look at it in surprise and Clary tenses, eyes darting between the men to weigh her chances of getting to it. 

“I just want to warn you that my roommate is a worrier - she’ll probably call the police to track my phone if I don’t come back tonight,” Clary says. 

“Answer it,” Magnus tells her. 

“What?!” Alec and Clary say at the same time as Lorenzo, all with equal measures of disbelief. 

“You said you trust us. So I’m returning that trust. Answer it.” Magnus nods towards the pocket where the sound is coming from, waiting expectantly. 

Clary reaches for her phone slowly, and seems continually surprised every inch her arm moves that she isn’t stopped until the phone is out and up to her ear. 

“Rebecca? Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, my battery died.” Clary listens for a second, glances up at the three of them, and bites down on her lower lip. 

“I--” she starts, then stops, hesitating again. “I ran into some old friends, I don’t know how late I’ll be. I might crash here for the night, so don’t wait up.” 

Lorenzo looks startled at the statement, but Alec and Magnus only smile. He has to stop and remember the girl who would sacrifice herself to save her friends, the one willing to throw herself into the unknown no matter the risk. He didn’t know her for very long, but there was a boldness to her every time they crossed paths for that short period of time. He sees that girl return with a resolved nod at her own words to her roommate. 

“See you in the morning,” Clary says, ending the conversation and closing her phone. “God, I hope I don’t regret this,” she adds, looking back up at Alec, Magnus, and Lorenzo. “But I just want you to know I’m staying for _me_. I feel like I’m going insane today and I want some goddamn answers.” 

“How convenient,” Alec says. “Because so do we, so let’s help each other out. Why did you go to The Insti- to that abandoned building today?” 

“Honestly? I’m not sure. Second time today that happened, second time it backfired horribly.” Clary sighs. 

“So you don’t remember anything about it?” Alec prys. 

Clary shakes her head. “Not a real memory. I thought I saw the inside of it, when the doors opened, and it looked like I’d been there before but-” she’s in the middle of speaking when she screws her eyes shut suddenly, bringing her hands up to her head. 

All three of them are by her side in a moment, Magnus and Lorenzo each reaching out hesitant hands. 

Magnus is the first to react, more comfortable around the girl from their previous friendship, and Lorenzo watches as blue magic flows from his hand and across the top of her head. It should help, the healing, but instead Lorenzo sees Clary’s eyes look up at Magnus, widening first in recognition before closing again in pain much worse than the first time. 

“Magnus,” Clary says, the word choking out through gritted teeth. “Make it stop, please.” 

“It isn’t working,” Magnus says, and Lorenzo allows him a moment to realize why on his own… but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t, he’s too close to the girl, too influenced to be an impartial observer of the facts. Lorenzo watches it play out for a moment in front of him and fears the same clouded judgement for himself one day, especially if today’s willingness to help Andrew with little to no information is any indication. 

But for now he pushes those concerns away and steps forward, moving Magnus’ hands out of the way to place his own on either side of Clary’s head. His yellow magic is visible just a moment, a short burst that fades as quickly as it appears. 

The next moment Clary is slumped back onto the sofa, unconscious again. 

“It’s the memories,” Lorenzo says. “She was in pain at the Institute over her memory of the building returning. Then again just now, except it wasn’t as strong until you used your magic on her. Her pain increased the moment she recognized your magic and said your name.” 

“She did, didn’t she. I hadn’t even realized,” Magnus admits, sighing as he sits on the sofa next to her, taking the time to prop her head up onto a pillow and drape a blanket over her this time. “I was so caught up in trying to help I was only making it worse.” He looks around suddenly concerned. “She shouldn’t be here, not if she remembers me; she’ll remember the Loft, too.” 

Lorenzo has to agree with Magnus’ reasoning, but the idea of dumping her back off at school is far from appealing at the moment, not after knocking her out twice. The last thing he needs are the police stopping him in the street on kidnapping charges. Magnus may be willing to believe she’s fine with all of this but Lorenzo knows better than to take anyone at their word in a compromising situation. 

“So where can we take her that’s safe, but isn’t anywhere she’s been before?” Alec asks, his gaze slowly turning to fall on Lorenzo. 

“Don’t look at me, this is your plan, I’m just--” Lorenzo starts, but stops suddenly realizing what Alec is hinting at. “No. No, absolutely not.” 

“I’ll come with. She doesn’t remember me yet, so I’m safe,” Alec insists. 

“Can’t we just pull her memories from today and send her on her way?” Lorenzo suggests hopefully. 

“No,” Magnus insists. “Not again. Twice she’s lost this part of her identity. She’s meant to know, to be part of this world. I’m not watching that get taken from her a third time” Magnus swears. 

Lorenzo is about to protest again but there’s such strong conviction behind Magnus’ words that it gives him pause. 

“Come on, Lorenzo. We all need answers here, and we aren’t going to get them if we wipe her memories and send her away,” Alec starts, a slow smirk spread across his features. “You said it yourself - what if she shows up at the Dumort next? Then we have to send out a team to save her, and Underhill is in danger, and--”

Lorenzo narrows his eyes. “That’s low, Lightwood.” But this time Magnus doesn't correct him on the name, knowing the delicate balance of the moment they're in. Lorenzo knows that Alec is only saying that to taunt him - he’s a good person, and a good leader, and would never put any of his people in jeopardy unless absolutely necessary. It also drives the point home beyond argument - this isn’t just a Shadowhunter problem, and Lorenzo very specifically has some additional investment in how this plays out. 

“Fine,” Lorenzo reluctantly agrees, a portal already swirling open behind them. “Let’s go.”


	13. Part Thirteen: Alec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec hasn't worked with Lorenzo one-on-one very often, and is surprised to discover how well they might actually be able to work together, if given the chance. 
> 
> And as far as chances go, Clary continues to take them on the strangers around her.

“I’ll keep you updated,” Alec assures Magnus, giving his husband a kiss goodbye before picking Clary up off of the sofa and carrying her through the portal. When he steps through into Lorenzo’s mansion it looks almost the same as it did a year ago when he was last here. The little constants are nice, especially considering how much the world around him has changed in such a short period of time. 

Alec immediately moves towards the sofa but Lorenzo stops him. 

“Can you carry her upstairs?” Lorenzo asks him. “We can put her in a proper bed this time until she wakes up, I’ll conjure up something for her to eat, too, the poor thing must be drained.” 

Alec tilts his head for a moment, caught off-guard by the extra measure Lorenzo considered to keep Clary comfortable. He hasn’t dealt with Lorenzo very much in the past year, not since his move to Alicante and Isabelle’s appointment as Head of the Institute in his place. Of course, during his visits and time catching up with Underhill with a night out here and there, he’s heard his fair share of the subtle shifts in the High Warlock of Brooklyn’s attitude from the man who once blacklisted Magnus from the warlock community. 

On the outside he still puts on a show of being above caring about trivial matters and people who serve him no purpose, especially during official meetings and council sessions, but this is a taste of the Lorenzo who Underhill and Isabelle have been telling him about. Alec almost didn’t believe them before seeing it with his own two eyes; Underhill is one thing, Alec expects him to be kind to his boyfriend, but he has no reason to go above and beyond for Clary. 

“That sounds good, yeah.” Alec shifts Clary’s weight in his arms before turning towards the stairs. 

“Up the stairs, take a right, second door on the left.” Lorenzo says before turning and heading off somewhere. 

Alec’s second surprise - being allowed to wander Lorenzo’s home freely. He expected the other man to follow him around, or maybe offer yet another tour of any new acquisitions from the past year, but instead Lorenzo vanishes out of sight before Alec is even up the first set of stairs. 

He finds the bedroom easily enough. It’s clearly a spare for visitors, and even though it isn’t dusty or anything it’s also obvious it hasn’t been used in quite some time.Alec shifts the covers enough to lay Clary down and pull them over her, leaving the door open on his way out and back down the stairs.

Alec is about to call out to find where Lorenzo went when he hears sounds coming from a room down the hall and follows them to find Lorenzo not  _ actually _ conjuring something up, but gathering ingredients out of the cabinets and fridge to cook with. A  _ lot _ of ingredients. 

“How many people do you plan on feeding?” Alec asks, eyebrow raised. 

“Assuming your entire hoard of Shadowhunters are likely about to invade my home to speak with Clarissa when she wakes back up, at least half a dozen.” Lorenzo doesn’t even look up from what he’s chopping as he speaks. 

“Oh,” Alec says, not quite sure what else to say to that. Lorenzo doesn’t seem angry about it, more resigned to the inevitability… and entirely willing, just as he was in offering Clary a proper room, to go the extra mile. Maybe he can sense how tense this entire situation is for them. Maybe he just wants to be the better person after that jab at Alec for keeping this secret, the same way he had the Soul Sword. “Thanks,” he adds. “I know you don’t want to be doing all this.”    
  
“What can I say, Bane set quite the precedent for Shadowhunter tolerance,” Lorenzo shrugged. 

“Mmhmm,” Alec hums, smiling slightly. “Though it seems like you’re doing a bit more than tolerating Underhill these days.You’ve been together the whole year since the wedding, haven’t you?” Alec hears Underhill’s side of things occasionally, but it’s rare he has a moment alone with Lorenzo that isn’t focused on some sort of official business of another. 

“I suppose so,” Lorenzo confirms. “I suppose,” he continues in a would-be-casual tone. “Not to jinx it, but things are going rather well these days. Andrew is quite the charmer when he wants to be.” 

Alec stifles a laugh. “Good. I was afraid after earlier-” 

Lorenzo cuts Alec off with a sigh and a wave of his hand. “We’ll talk it out. We always do; this isn’t the first time he’s put his duty as a Shadowhunter before our relationship. I’d probably do the same if our roles were reversed.” 

Alec shakes his head. “But you shouldn’t have to, and neither should Underhill. Ordering him to keep this a secret, I never should’ve done that. It was a bad call, and it goes against all of the transparency I’m trying to create in the Shadow World. How are you ever supposed to trust me and the rest of the Shadowhunters if we keep running around keeping secrets?” 

“If you think you’re the only ones keeping secrets, Mr. Lightwood, you’re more naive than I thought,” Lorenzo states simply. “This isn’t something that’s going to stop overnight. You’re doing good work, but you’ve barely begun. You can’t undo years of systematic oppression and self-preservation with a law or two.” 

He wonders if Lorenzo knows something he doesn’t, openly admitting that there are other secrets being kept in the Shadow World. Which, Alec reasons, could be almost anything. But the tone that their conversation shifts to is much more serious than it began, and he has to consider if it isn’t more of a veiled warning than a casual statement. 

He doesn’t get a chance to ask before Alec’s phone rings, Isabelle’s name flashing across the screen. 

“Hey Iz, what’s up?” He asks, already knowing the answer. Magnus filled her in on where he is and what’s going on, and she wants to know what the next move is. 

“Honestly, I’m not so sure anymore. You didn’t see her when she suddenly remembered Magnus… if we bring everyone here it might be too much for her all at once…”

Lorenzo looks up at that. “If I just chopped up that many fresh carrots for nothing-” he starts, falling silent when Alec holds up a finger to shush him so he can hear his sister through the phone. 

“What? No, nevermind about the carrots. Listen, I know he’s going to kill me for it later, but tell Jace to stay back for now. If you and Simon want to come, that’s fine. But until we know how her memories are affecting her, and why they’re coming back, I don’t want to risk anything that’s already triggered her.” Alec pauses, listening again. “Take your time, see you when you get here.” 

He hangs up, turning back to Lorenzo. “What do you think? Should I even let those two come?” He asks, curious to hear the warlock’s opinion. 

Lorenzo looks shocked to be asked. “Why are you asking me?” 

“Because I meant what I said earlier. I can’t fix this on my own, and if I’m being honest I’m more than a little biased here, so I’d like a second opinion.” Alec says, opting for honesty this time around. 

“I don’t think it’s a terrible idea,” Lorenzo admits. “But I can’t say for certain, and neither can you. First you’re trying to keep her away from the places she’s remembering, then you’re asking her all sorts of leading questions back at Magnus’, and now you’re trying to keep her away from it again. You’re just as clueless as I am in this unfortunately unprecedented situation.” 

Alec hates how right Lorenzo is, cursing his intuitive outlook and the fact that he really doesn’t shy away from telling things like they are. Alec’s trying to play the diplomat here, while balancing his personal history with Clary, and failing miserably at both. He thought for a second back there he was covering it well enough but clearly that isn’t the case. 

“If there’s one thing you learn being immortal,” Lorenzo continues after Alec’s prolonged silence. “It’s adaptability. Make a plan, but don’t be afraid to change it when something new comes up and it stops working. Don’t just stick with it because you said it an hour ago.” 

Alec isn’t sure how he feels about getting leadership advice from Lorenzo Rey of all people, but it’s good advice. 

Alec catches himself staring at the yellow magic that Lorenzo uses, remembering the short period of time he had it at his own disposal. He thinks about that more than he cares to admit, the feel of it just under the surface of his skin, the power at his fingertips… 

“Have you considered using it again?” Lorenzo asks, and Alec sees his gaze watching him watch the magic. “The alliance rune?” 

Alec shakes his head. “No. I mean, yes, plenty of times. But not seriously. Not after the pushback it gave the first time, and the price Clary paid for it’s creation… the Angels clearly didn’t want that to exist. I can’t ignore that a second time, not considering the potential cost for using it again.” 

Lorenzo nods thoughtfully. “Do you think your Angels will allow it now, if they’re returning Clary and all of her powers back to our world?” 

Alec pauses to consider that. He hadn’t thought about it before, but… maybe, just maybe… 

He refuses to get his hopes up. 

“Let’s worry about one thing at a time,” Alec suggests instead of pursuing that line of thinking, though now that it’s in the back of his mind he knows it’s going to stay there for quite some time. He clears his throat to refocus. “Alright. So we stick with the plan for now and change it if we have to-” 

“What plan?” Clary’s voice sounds from the doorway, causing both men to jump slightly at the unexpected sound. 

“You didn’t leave,” Alec observes, pleasantly surprised. When he left her alone in that bedroom, no wards holding her in or person to keep an eye on her, he half expected her to flee the moment she woke up. He has to admit he’s pleasantly surprised to see her still here. 

“I told you, I want answers, too. And it looks like you guys are the ones who have them.” She glances around. “Where’s Magnus?” 

Alec and Lorenzo share a look of concern. Clary seems okay at first, but the longer she thinks about him, trying to remember the warlock and what happened before, the more Alec sees the discomfort grow in her expression. 

“He isn’t here. We didn’t want you to be in any more pain if we could help it. The remembering hurts, doesn’t it?” Alec asks, knowing it’s a stupid question but wanting to hear the answer from her just the same. 

Clary nods. “The first time is the worst. If it’s just a piece of something I can mostly ignore it. But if it’s something big, or all of it at once… well, it sucks. I mean, you saw me, did I pass out again?” 

Alec stores that knowledge away while Lorenzo cringes a bit from behind a boiling pot on the stove. “Ahhh, actually, Miss Fairchild, that was my doing. I… incapacitated you before the pain could. Both times.” 

“Oh,” Clary says, and Alec’s afraid she might  _ actually _ run at that news. “Thanks, I guess?” 

“You really do trust us, don’t you?” Alec asks, amazed and confused but also more than a little grateful for it. 

Clary nods. “I do. I shouldn’t, but… here we are. Me in a house with two strangers who have ‘ _ incapacitated _ ’ and kidnapped me twice now. If I don’t end up on some procedural cop show a year from now it’ll be a miracle.” 

There’s the unmistakable sound of a portal in the living room and all three of their heads turn towards it. 

“What’s that?” Clary asks, immediately taking a step back. 

Alec looks at her with a cautious grin. “How do you feel about meeting a few more old friends?” 

“Do I have a choice?” Clary says, taking a deep breath. 

Alec considers this, and then nods. “Yes. You do. Say the word and they’re gone.” 

Clary hesitates. There are voices now, calling out for Alec. A girl and a guy. 

Alec watches Clary carefully as the initial fear fades to the stubborn determination he remembers her so well for; a flash of the old Clary if he ever saw one. 

“No… it’s fine. I’m fine,” she says with a resolute nod, and Alec is positive she’s trying to convince herself more than him, but lets it go. “Let’s do this.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check back in next week for some guaranteed-feels from a Simon POV chapter <3


	14. Part Fourteen: Simon & Isabelle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Isabelle join Alec, Lorenzo, and Clary. Simon thinks he'll be able to hold it together in front of his former best friend but when his emotions get the better of him will he risk compromising the plan they've kept in place the past year?

Simon paces next to Isabelle as she talks to Alec on the phone, wondering how she can possibly be so calm about all of this. Clary was at the Institute, because she remembers it. Because she remembers Jace, and the Jade Wolf, and runes, and now Magnus, and-- 

“Simon?” Isabelle’s voice says, and he can tell from the tone it isn’t the first time she said his name to get his attention just then. 

“Yeah, sorry. What’s up?” He stops pacing and attempts to keep any hand-fidgeting to a minimum. 

“Alec says we can meet them at Lorenzo’s,” she starts, and Simon is already moving towards the door before she can finish. 

“Great! I’ll grab Jace and-” but he stops when she cuts him off. 

“No, not Jace. Just us.” To her credit, Isabelle looks as worried about that statement as Simon feels. 

“In which case, you tell him, because he can still kick my ass way too easily for me to break that news,” he points out. “Why not Jace?” 

“Alec doesn’t want to risk anyone or anything that’s already triggering her memories. So until she remembers us we’re safe to have around for now, I guess.” Isabelle says the words with a shrug, making it clear she’s pretty much just going along with whatever Alec told her and doesn’t have any real theories here. 

Simon frowns, because he  _ does _  have quite a few theories about all of this, and none of them make any sense. “Then why risk having more potential triggers show up?” He frowns deeper. “Are we just tests for her, to see what’s safe and what isn’t? She isn’t some lab rat, Isabelle.” 

Isabelle, who is in the process of grabbing her jacket and bag, puts both back down to walk over to him. 

“You know we don’t see her like that, Simon. We all care about Clary. We just need to figure out the best way to go about helping her. And we can’t do that if we don’t know as much as we can about everything she’s experiencing right now, and we need all hands on deck. If it’s worse that we’re there, we’ll leave. I promise.” Isabelle makes careful eye contact with him, holding his hands in her own as she speaks, and Simon looks down and takes two long, deep breaths before looking back up. 

“You’re right. Sorry. I’m just… this is a lot.” He says, half-expecting to see judgement and pity **_,_ ** but only sees concern reflected in her face. 

“It is for me, too. I know it isn’t the same, I wasn’t friends with her as long as you were, but…” Izzy looks down at spot on her arm for a moment, one free of runes. “I never told anyone, but I asked her to be my Parabatai, right before it all happened.” Izzy sighs but there’s a flicker of a smile there. “She said yes. And to lose that… to lose her…” 

“I didn’t know,” Simon says, wondering why she never told him, or anyone else, about that. 

“It’s fine,” Izzy says, clearing her throat. “What matters now is getting her back, if we can. I just wanted you to know that we  _ all  _ want what’s best for Clary, you don’t have to worry.” 

Simon nods. He knows he can trust Isabelle, he knows the sort of person she is. Jace too, and Alec, and the others are all great people… individually. But he can’t deny the almost hive mentality the Shadowhunters can have about things as a whole and the occasionally questionable priorities and tactics when it benefits them. Sometimes they’re aware of it but a lot of the time they aren’t, which is just as reassuring as it is concerning. 

Izzy has Magnus open a portal for them, and a few minutes later the two of them are stepping out into a room that rivals the luxuries of the Hotel Durmort’s decor. 

“Alec?” Izzy calls out immediately when they don’t see anyone where they arrived. 

“Woah,” Simon says, spinning in a full circle to take in the walls full of art, high ceilings, and endless statues and vases and other valuables. 

“Don’t look too impressed, it’ll go right to Lorenzo’s head,” Izzy says, rolling her eyes. 

“But  _ look at this place _ , it’s like walking into something out of a movie. I didn’t know people in New York actually  _ lived _  in mansions like this.” 

“Of course they do! It isn’t all high rises and cramped apartments,” Izzy laughs. “And you say  _ I _  need to get out more.” 

“Well, you do,” Simon argues, but doesn’t get the chance to say more. Out of a door at the far end of the room emerges Alec, followed closely by Clary. She looks so small behind him, so hesitant and unsure as she hangs back. 

This is it. After spending the past year avoiding any contact with her, this is the first time he’s seen her up close since Magnus and Alec’s wedding. She looks so  _ different _ . He knew that from photos and from the occasional surveillance camera they’d tap into just to check on her, but it’s one thing to see it on a screen and another to have her standing in front of him. 

He wants to wrap her in his arms and never let go. He wants her to remember him, to remember everything about their lives together, before and after they were dragged into the Shadow World… but then he remembers what Izzy said before they left about being safe to have around because she  _ doesn’t  _ remember them. Suddenly he isn’t so sure he wants her to remember if it means he doesn’t have to leave, to distance himself again. Simon doesn’t know if he can stand to do that a second time. If her not remembering him is what keeps him here, now, for as long as he possibly can be… 

“Are you alright?” The question breaks him out of his thoughts and he looks up to see Clary taking a hesitant step toward him as she asks it. “You looked like you might faint for a second there.” 

“Yeah, I’m… I’m fine. Sorry.” He’s anything but ‘fine’ but the lie sounds nice, and the smile that accompanies it seems to ease Clary’s concerns because soon she’s smiling back at him. He’s dreamt of this moment for an entire year but this is hardly the way he imagined it. Still, he does his best to shake those thoughts and focus on the task at hand. 

“Where’s Lorenzo?” Izzy asks Alec, though Simon watches her eyes continually turn back to Clary even as she addresses her brother. 

“He’s  _ cooking _ ,” Alec says, arching an eyebrow as he nods back towards the room they came out of. “So I hope you’re hungry.” 

“And somehow, still not the strangest part of this day,” Izzy mutters beside him. 

They’re silent for a moment before Clary speaks up again. “Sorry, I know you all seem to know me, but…” she frowns, not sure how to go about asking what she wants to without making things uncomfortable. Simon’s heart breaks as he realizes what she’s implying but thankfully Izzy hops in with practiced good grace. 

“Of course! Where are my manners? I’m Isabelle, and this is-” 

“Simon,” he says, fighting every urge to reach out for that hug he still wants to give her; instead he takes a few steps forward to hold out his hand. Clary looks at him,  _ really _  looks at him, for what feels like hours even though he knows it’s only a few seconds. He holds his breath, hoping, until-

“Nice to meet you,” Clary replies with the sort of polite tone you reserve for strangers. “Both of you,” she adds, glancing behind him to where Isabelle lingers several steps back. “Sorry. I know this is weird. Alec says we’re old friends, but I don’t--” 

“It’s alright,” Izzy reassures her. 

But it isn’t alright, Simon thinks. Clary looks at him like he’s a total stranger and it hurts so much more than he expects it to. He keeps his mouth shut because he’s certain the moment it opens he’s just going to scream in frustration. 

Simon knows he came here for Clary, and before they actually got here he thought he’d be fine. But now that he’s here… now that  _ she’s _  here, close enough to reach out to if the action wouldn’t be entirely unwanted; he’s just a kind stranger to her now. 

He can’t do this. 

“I gotta…” he starts, glancing between the Shadowhunters, hoping they’ll understand as his words fail him. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Simon-” Izzy starts, concerned by the look of panic he’s certain is plastered all across his face just then. 

“I”m fine. I just need some air.” That’s clearly a lie - he doesn’t need air at all but he can’t stay here another minute without breaking down. A moment later he’s gone, walking until he’s outside and then putting on a burst of speed, only stopping once he’s in the far reaches of a rather expansive garden. It’s a good thing Lorenzo’s property sprawls on forever since Simon wants as much space as possible between himself and the others before the tears start to fall. 

He tells himself he just needs to get this out of his system, that once the shock of it all wears off he’ll be okay. 

He has to be, because being here now isn’t about him - just like the last year of staying away wasn’t about him. It’s about Clary, and for her he’d push through just about anything. 

\---

Izzy watches Simon leave, tempted to follow after him. She knows he’s lying about being alright but so does everyone else in the room - Clary included. 

“That was because of me, wasn’t it?” Clary asks, looking upset. Izzy can’t imagine how confusing this must be for her. 

“He’s just a little overwhelmed. Don’t worry, he’ll be alright.” Izzy does her best to give Clary the most reassuring smile she can muster. “And none of this is your fault, okay?”

Clary nods but she doesn't look convinced. 

“So why don’t I remember any of you?” Clary asks instead, and Izzy is glad for the change of topic. The longer she thinks about Simon the more she wants to chase after him, but she knows she needs to stay here for now.  

However, since Izzy isn’t sure what happened before she got here, she shoots a questioning glance Alec’s way instead of answering. How much does Clary know? How much can she say? 

“You lost your memories. I guess you could say you traded them, in a way, to help us,” Alec explains just vaguely enough to avoid any incriminating details. 

Clary considers this. “You mean I knew this would happen and I did it to myself?” 

Izzy nods, the sacrifice still painful to remember even so long after they found the note Clary left behind. 

“But now I’m getting them back,” Clary points out. “I’m guessing that wasn’t supposed to happen.” 

Alec confirms that with a shake of his head. 

Izzy picks up on Alec’s responses easily enough - after this many years of working closely with him both off and on the field where nonverbal communication is vital, she can read Alec’s cues to her almost like a second unspoken language. He’s being vague, keeping any details or specifics from her, mostly just to get a feel for what she’s thinking and feeling right now. He doesn’t mention Jonathan or the Angels, or the letter she left behind. 

Izzy picks up without missing a beat. “What all do you remember?” She doesn’t know if this was covered already but she wants to hear it from Clary anyway, not a second-hand report. “It clearly isn’t everything, so…” she does her best to keep the pain out of her own tone over being one of the people Clary doesn’t remember.

“That’s the thing, it isn’t anything solid. I keep having these impulses to go places, like earlier today I wandered into some diner that’s under construction, talked to a girl named Maia for a little while until she kicked me out for painting a weird symbol on the wall.” 

Izzy nods at that, remembering Jace’s immediate report on the rune Clary drew on the wall of Taki’s as Clary continues. 

“Then I wind up in some shady part of town outside an abandoned church? But these places feel so familiar to me. So do Maia, and Jace. I don’t remember much about him, just his name  and that I knew him. The same with remembering Magnus - there aren’t any details, I just suddenly knew he was someone I could ask for help. It’s all disconnected flashes jumbled up in ways that don’t make any sense. And when I finally feel like I’m about to figure something out, or remember something more important-” Izzy watches Clary pace as she talks, throwing her hands up into the air exasperatedly at the end. 

“You get the headaches,” Alec finishes for her, a deep frown crossing his features. 

“Do you think you can stop them?” Clary asks hopefully, looking from Alec to Isabelle. “Not you personally, but… maybe Magnus can? I don’t remember a lot about him but I know he has magic, what good is magic if it can’t cancel out a few headaches?”  

Now it’s Izzy’s turn to frown, hating the idea of being the one to dash Clary’s hopes right off the bat. “I don’t think so. His sort of magic can’t undo… whatever’s wrong with you.” Izzy finishes lamely, not wanting to bring up angelic power or anything to do with the Shadowhunters just then. It’s killing her to play it safe here, to not just tell Clary everything in the hopes that she’ll understand and stop looking at her like she should be able to fix all of her problems. 

“But we’re going to look into it, okay? Alec and I, and Simon and everyone else - we’re going to find the answers for you. I promise.” She can’t promise what sort of answers they’re going to find, but she’s going to see if there isn’t anything they can do to reach out to the angels, to seek permission to help Clary… or at the very least an explanation for why Clary’s starting to remember again.  

Just then Lorenzo exits the kitchen, glancing at Alec. 

“I thought Magnus was staying behind?” Lorenzo questions, an eyebrow raised. 

“He did,” Alec confirms. “Why?” 

“Because I just felt the magic of one of his portals breach my exterior wards.” 

Izzy isn’t sure why Magnus would be here after explicitly stating it’d be a bad idea… but whatever the reason, it can’t be good. 

\---

Simon is starting to think his head will never clear enough to be able to return to the others when an idea comes to him, clear and piercing through the jumbled mess of thoughts he was lost in a moment ago. It shakes him from his haze and his phone is in his hand a moment later. 

“Magnus, I need you to come here right now. I’m in Lorenzo’s garden.” Simon’s tone is urgent, pleading, and on the verge of hysteria. Simon hangs up before Magnus has a chance to protest or agree. 

He paces, wondering if maybe Magnus isn’t going to come, when the familiar sound of a portal opens behind him. 

“Simon? What’s wrong?” Magnus asks, voice full of concern. 

“You took Clary’s memories of me, right? I mean, I know you did, but that was just a choice  _ we  _ made. The Angels didn’t take that away from her. Me, and Luke… she could still remember us from a life before the Shadow World, right?” 

“Simon, I don’t think-”

“ _ Answer the question _ . You blocked them, or took them, or whatever you did, but you  _ can _  give them back, can’t you?” 

Magnus remains silent but that silence is all the answer Simon needs. 

“Give them back to her,” Simon demands. 

“Simon, I really don’t think that’s such a good-” 

“Give. Them. Back. I need her to remember me, Magnus. I can’t-- this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. She’s remembering other people anyway, it’s only a matter of time! Or maybe it isn’t. What if she doesn’t remember me at all because she’s only remembering what the Angels took away? What if you’re the only way she’ll get her memories of me back?” There are tears streaming down Simon’s face as he talks, shifting from a harsh demand to a desperate pleading.  

“That isn’t my decision to make,” Magnus says softly. 

“It is! You’re the only one who can do it, what do you mean it isn’t your decision?” There isn’t a single part of Simon capable of slowing down enough to think about this objectively. The thoughts in his mind race at a million miles an hour. All he knows is that Magnus’ magic is the one thing between him and his best friend. Screw the Shadow World, he doesn’t care if she remembers going to Edom, or him becoming a vampire. He just wants open mic nights at Java Jones and doodling graphic novels back. 

He just wants Clary back. 

“You were there, Simon. You know this was a group decision. I don’t know what she’s remembering, or not remembering, but we all agreed-” 

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Simon cuts in, surprising himself with the anger behind his own words. “The only person who should have any say in this is-” Simon looks back towards the mansion, already turning to run. “-Clary!” 

“Simon!” Magnus is trying to stop him but it’s too late. Simon’s already halfway back to the house with a burst of speed he knows will get him to the others before Magnus can even consider giving chase. 

Simon runs using every last ounce of energy he has to make it back into the living room in record time, skidding to a halt directly in front of Clary. 

“Simon! What on earth are you-” Izzy starts, but Simon ignores her and instead focuses all of his attention on Clary. 

“If I had a way for you to get some of your memories back, memories of me, and of Luke who you probably don’t remember but you should,  _ you really should _ … you should remember both of us, Clary. You deserve that much.” He’s talking too fast, rambling, and forces himself to slow down. “Would you take it?”    
  
“You don’t know what you’re saying” Alec tries to interject just as a portal opens beside him and Magnus steps through from the garden a moment too late. 

“I tried to stop him,” Magnus sighs. “I didn’t realize what he was doing until it was too late, damn vampire speed.” 

“What’s he talking about?” Clary asks, her gaze jumping anxiously from Simon to the others. Simon knows he must look crazy, wide eyed and rushing in here like a bat out of hell with tears from mere minutes ago still stained down his cheeks. 

Simon doesn’t give anyone else a chance to answer first. “Magnus can give you some of your memories back. Not all of them, but some of them. A year ago we made a decision that was never ours to make. We thought we were right, that it was for the best, but now I’m not so sure.” Simon has to pause, his voice wavering a moment before he gets it back under control. “I can’t undo that, I can’t fix the year you spent not remembering so much of your own past, but we can give them back to you now, if you wanted. It’s up to you.” 

Simon does his best to ignore the glares he can feel seering into the back of his head from Isabelle and Alec, knowing he’ll pay for this later. He doesn’t care. It’s the Shadowhunters faults he lost Clary in the first place and he isn’t thinking clearly enough to even consider the idea that maybe their rules and procedures exist for a reason. 

All he can think is that he knows a way for Clary to remember him, and he has to at least try and see it through. 

“Is that true?” Clary asks, looking beyond him to Magnus specifically. 

Simon turns to see Magnus holding her gaze, watching the cautious hope held there. Magnus doesn’t look over at Izzy who’s holding her breath, or Alec who shakes his head, silently wishing for Magnus to bend the truth or talk Clary out of it. This isn’t the plan, Simon knows. He’s going against everything they talked about, everything they agreed upon, but he can’t bring himself to give a single shit about any of that right now. 

Simon doesn’t know what’s going through Magnus’ head during the long silence in which he just stares at Clary, searching her face for something, until-

“Yes,” Magnus finally admits. “It is. But I can’t promise there won’t be side-effects of any attempt to return them, or promise you that I even  _ can  _ after this long and the… other tampering done do that part of your mind.” 

“Magnus…” Alec starts, his voice low, warning, but Magnus only shakes his head sadly. 

“Maybe Simon’s right. I’ve messed with Clary’s memories too many times in her short life, none of them of her own volition. As long as she knows the risks involved…” Magnus sounds like he’s trying very hard to remain impartial in his reasoning about this. Simon can’t imagine how uncomfortable voicing an opinion that goes directly against his husband’s must be. 

“But she doesn’t know the risks, none of us do! That’s the whole point. This is unprecedented and there's no telling what returning those memories will do to her!” Alec points out. 

“Can everyone quit talking about me like I’m not  _ right here _ ?!” Clary yells, stopping all of the arguments dead in their tracks. 

Alec turns from Magnus to face Clary, and Simon has to fight the urge to situate himself directly between them to block him from even speaking to her. “Just give us some time to figure things out,” Alec suggests. “If we think it’s safe then we can consider it.” 

“And what if you don’t think it’s safe, then I never get my memories back? Or what if you decide to take back the ones I’m already starting to remember?” Clary argues. She inches closer to Simon but he doesn’t think she even realizes she’s doing it - he does, though, and his heart swells over it.

The room falls silent until Clary finally speaks again. “I want them back.” She looks at each of them in turn, Magnus, Alec, Isabelle, and even Lorenzo who hasn’t said a word since Simon returned, before finally coming to rest on Simon who still stands right in front of her. 

“I want all of them back. Whatever it takes.” 

Simon smiles. That’s the Clary Fray he knows and loves, and soon, just maybe, she’ll know and love him back again. 


	15. Part Fifteen: Magnus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Alec starts to falter over what needs to be done, Magnus starts to take control of the situation, bringing about a few moments of déjà vu.

This is not at all how Magnus pictured the rest of his night going. 

“Great, she wants them back! So, what now?” Simon asks, clapping his hands together in anticipation. 

Standing beside him Magnus hears Alec mutter “I’m going to kill him,” under his breath while his hands clench at his sides. 

Magnus wonders if Simon truly understands what he’s just done, even if he didn’t exactly dissuade the idea himself. 

Magnus meets Clary’s gaze and sees the same girl who came to him to get her memories back just a little over a year ago, fierce and determined, and gives her a small nod. Honestly, he didn’t really expect any other answer from her once the offer was on the table.

“Alexander…” Magnus starts, chancing a glance over at his husband to see the thinly veiled frustration and annoyance there, wondering how much of it is directed at him. “Can we talk _privately_ for a minute?” 

Alec actually looks like he might tell him no for a second before his expression softens ever so slightly. 

Magnus offers a quick half-smile, half-grimace to the group. “Pardon us. Just going to steal my darling husband for a moment, we won’t be long.” 

By the time he’s done speaking Alec is already halfway across the room so Magnus follows Alec out of the front door Simon left open, shutting it behind them. 

“What were you _thinking_ , Magnus? You know the whole point of this is to keep her from remembering too much, and now you’re just offering to throw her memories back at her like it’s nothing?” Alec is, rightfully, feeling a little betrayed by Magnus siding with Simon, he can tell. He certainly doesn’t blame him. 

“She’s getting her other memories back, Alec. All on her own. But the ones we took _from her_ ? SImon’s right, she’ll never have them again unless we get them back. She didn’t choose to give those up, _we_ did that.” Magnus reminds him. 

“I know,” Alec admits. “But this wasn’t the plan. I should’ve known better than to let Simon get too close to this…” 

“Don’t be too hard on him, Alexander. He only wants his friend back,” Magnus points out. “Tell me you wouldn’t have ruined any plan to do the same for Jace if it were him?” 

Alec opens his mouth, hesitates, and closes it again. “That doesn’t make it right,” Alec says finally. “He knew exactly what he was doing. Both of you did. We could’ve talked it over first, but now…” 

“Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission,” Magnus says, and there’s a hint of a question behind the words, asking for a bit of forgiveness of his own. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t look her in the eyes and lie about this. She never wanted the truth hidden from her, not even as a child; Clary fought it every time Jocelyn brought her to me, you know.”  

Sometimes Magnus thinks that Alec forgets his history with Clary and her family, with Jocelyn and Luke and Valentine. He watched her grow up, he shaped her childhood by taking those memories and experiences away from her at her mother’s request - Clary’s more than just someone who wandered into his life a year ago. 

“Good to know she’s been nothing but trouble her entire life, and not just since Jace bumped into her outside Pandemonium,” Alec says with a roll of his eyes. 

Alec is tense. Magnus knows how much he hates things being out of his control. Clary’s memories returning, Simon not blindly following his instructions the way they know Izzy, Jace, and Underhill would (hell, even Magnus was determined to play along for now before Simon broke ranks first), he can sense his husband silently panicking the more variables slip out of his control.  

“If we lied to her about this she’d never trust us again. We can’t help her if she won’t come to us. What if she tried to go to the police? What if she ended up turning to someone who’d take advantage of her to help? We’re her best shot,” Magnus points out, standing by the decision he made in the moment. 

“I wish I never knew about any of this,” Alec says finally. “If she just got her memories back, and came to us afterward… but you know I can’t let this happen without telling the Clave now. They’re going to want to track her, to monitor everything she does, everywhere she goes. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid by not getting involved but she just had to ruin it by showing up at the Institute, didn’t she?” 

Magnus knows things haven’t been easy for Alec this past year. Even before he was Head of the Institute, covering for his siblings, for their involvement with Clary from the start, has always been something that left him uncertain. It only got worse as Head of the Institute, and then Consul. ‘The Law is the Law’ holds a lot more weight when you _are_ the Law, but just the fact that Alec’s here, now, shows he’s still willing to follow his heart over the rules, and that’s part of the reason Magnus has grown to love him over the years. 

“You could’ve ignored Izzy’s calls,” Magnus points out. “Or said something to the Clave the moment she told you what happened with Jace. You didn’t have to come here today. I didn’t have to buy her art, or offer the loft as a place to take her, or show up tonight when Simon called me. We both know you care too much to just ignore her while this happens, Alec.” 

Alec sighs again, but this time the frustration is with himself. “Yeah, well, it’d be a hell of a lot easier if I could.” 

Magnus smiles softly and reaches out to place a hand on Alec’s shoulder. “Last I checked, the man I fell in love with never took the easy way out of anything.” He leans in for a kiss, a short, chaste press of lips that has the tension melting out of Alec’s shoulders and arms immediately as he leans into it. 

“How about you go do whatever Shadowhunter things you need to do about this, maybe give Luke a heads-up on the ‘returning Clary’s memories of him’ development? Clary didn’t seem to react negatively to seeing me again, so I’ll stay and take care of things here.” Magnus suggests, the words coming slower and with more weight than a casual offer to ‘babysit’ the others. He doesn’t outright say what taking care of things here entails but the way Alec’s eyes narrow shows that his ever-intuitive husband suspects the implications. 

“Magnus-” Alec starts, but Magnus shakes his head. 

“Just let me take care of this,” Magnus repeats, cutting him off. He doesn’t want Alec to be entirely in the dark - this isn’t the sort of thing he wants to do behind his back. But he wants Alec to have all the plausible deniability in the world in case there’s fallout. He is, after all, the Consul. “We’ll be fine. I promise. I’ll meet you back home.” 

“If anything goes wrong-” 

“Nothing will, but if it does you’ll be the first person I call. Now go,” Magnus says, giving Alec one last kiss goodbye before making a shoo-ing motion with his hands. Alec hesitates and Magnus wonders if he’ll let this happen without him, but then Alec nods, turning and waiting expectantly for the portal Magnus opens for him back to Alicante before returning inside to the others. 

“Where’s Alec?” Izzy asks immediately. 

“Alexander had some business to attend to,” Magnus says candidly. “And so do we. Lorenzo, we’re going to need a few things from your workroom.” 

Lorenzo considers Magnus for a moment, shooting a questioning glance Clary’s way which earns him a small nod of confirmation from Magnus. 

“I suppose dinner can wait, then,” Lorenzo says, waving his hand back towards the kitchen and sending a flow of yellow magic that direction. “Which one is it?” He asks. 

“Valak,” Magnus informs him. 

“Of course it is. Surprised he even took them after the last time,” Lorenzo comments casually before turning and vanishing down a side hallway. 

“What’s going on?” Clary asks, whipping her head back and forth between the two warlocks so fast she may very well give herself whiplash. 

“ _Nothing_ is going on,” Izzy states, glaring at Magnus and crossing her arms. “Because we are _not_ doing this behind my brother’s back. No way!” 

Magnus moves closer to her so he can lower his voice in response. “Isabelle, your brother left me behind to _take care of things_ here,” he explains, hoping she’ll catch his drift without him implicating Alec in more than he should out loud. The more everyone believes this is him acting on his own, the better. “If you’d like to join him, just say the word. We’ll be fine here if you need to go finish some reports.” 

He’s giving her the same out he gave Alexander - if she’d rather keep her nose clean of this, go back to the Institute now and claim she had no knowledge of his immediate plans, he wouldn’t blame her. Studying her reaction he knows her answer before she even opens her mouth again:  her expression shifts from that immediate stubborn flash of anger to concern the moment she looks over at Simon and Clary who are talking quietly amongst themselves. 

She doesn’t want to leave them. He doesn’t blame her for that, either. 

“I’ll stay,” she settles. 

“Alright then,” Magnus confirms with a nod, placing a hand on her arm and giving it a light squeeze, a small act of reassurance.  

“I don’t suppose there’s any hope this is being relocated elsewhere?” Lorenzo asks upon his return. 

“Only if you’re kicking us out,” Magnus states. “It would be the most convenient, however - the warding against anything going wrong is already the strongest in the city, outside the Institute but we’re hardly going there.” 

“What could go wrong? Magnus, what are you doing?” Clary asks, still confused. 

“Exactly what you wanted, Clarissa,” he says, slipping back into the name she told them to use back at his loft. This is about to become much more stressful for all of them, so the most at ease he can keep her with small considerations like that, the better. “We’re getting your memories back. Well, some of them, like Simon said.” 

Clary eyes the supplies in Lorenzo’s arms warily. “And it’s dangerous magic?” 

The group shares a look, each one silently asking the others who is going to be the one to break it to Clary that they’re about to summon a demon and hope she doesn’t freak out 

“Your memories were given to a memory demon. It’s the safest way to guard them, after all, anything else can be broken or tampered or lost forever. We just have to summon him and get them back,” Lorenzo explains matter-of-factly. 

“A _what?”_ Clary replies. 

“It’s a very simple summoning. He’ll demand something in return, probably a memory from each of us because he’s terribly dull and predictable, and then you’ll get yours back and we’ll be on our way,” Magnus elaborates. 

“No way. Magic is one thing but I’ve seen enough horror movies to know you don’t mess around with summoning demons. I know you said you weren’t some creepy cult but all the signs are stating otherwise right about now.” There’s a panicked edge to Clary’s words and Magnus wonders if, after everything, she simply might not be _ready_ to enter back into the Shadow World. 

“What happened to ‘whatever it takes’?” SImon points out. 

“Well… yeah, but…” Clary falters, and none of the others push her. They all wait, silent, for her to make her own decision now. “Alright, I guess. I’ll try it.” 

“Wonderful!” Magnus exclaims, already moving to push the sofas aside to make space when Lorenzo stops him. 

“Oh no you don’t, Bane. You can stay here but we are not summoning anything in my living room. We’re going to the basement where there won’t be any collateral damage done to my Van Gough if things get dicey.” 

There’s another moment then where Magnus is half-convinced Clary isn’t going to willingly go with them before she turns and follows Simon and Isabelle, with Magnus bringing up the rear down a set of spiralled stairs and into a mostly empty stone-floored room of Lorenzo’s basement.   
  
“This will be perfect. Clarissa, be a dear? Take that black chalk and draw a pentagram on the floor large enough for us to stand around, then go over it with this,” Magnus instructs, taking a glass jar of black sand and handing it to her. 

“And I need to make sure _everyone_ here is willing to do their part. The demon will play on any break in concentration, any lack of sincerity in agreeing to whatever his price is. He may only ask me for something, he may ask all of us, but our resolve has to remain strong until the end.” Magnus looks around the group, getting nods and “yes”s from each individual, ending with Clary as she connects the final line within the circle and steps back. 

“I’m ready,” she says. 

“Everyone take a spot at a point,” Magnus instructs. 

Izzy glances down at the simple pentagram on the ground. “Wasn’t the last one much more… elaborate?” She questions. 

Magnus thinks back for a moment before giving a slightly surprised chuckle. “Yes, it was. I’m afraid that was a bit of… misdirection on my part. I just needed to buy some time for something before we got started.” 

“But all you did was talk to Alec--” Izzy starts before her words trail off into a knowing grin. “Of course you did.” Izzy glances around the circle again. “Don’t you want us to hold hands this time?” Izabelle asks, a sly smirk on her face. “Or is that only a requirement when Alec is around, too?” 

At least Magnus has the decency to look a little guilty at being caught, even a full year later. “I plead the fifth.” 

“Magnus!” Izzy laughs, shaking her head.

“Can you blame me? Your brother didn’t exactly make things easy for me, I had to take the opportunities as they presented themselves.” Magnus can only shrug at the admission. 

“Are you two done discussing Magnus’ horrid courting attempts? In case you forgot, we have a demon to summon, and believe it or not I do have other things to be doing than this,” Lorenzo says. 

“Yes. Of course,” Magnus clears his throat. “If everyone’s ready, let’s begin.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((A/N - There are so many threads/posts about how the other time they summoned a demon on the show the pentagram was super simple and no one had to hold hands, how could I not work that into this? ;) wbk Magnus was shameless from day one. Slightly shorter update because I had family up to visit this week and less time to write!))


	16. Part Sixteen: Clarissa/Clary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clary faces a memory demon for the second time in her life: will this time be successful? And if so, will it jolt more than just the memories of Simon and Luke that were given to it?

_ Jace should be here _ . Clarissa doesn’t know why the thought crosses her mind more than once as her nerves shoot up to impossible levels. But it isn’t just that he should be here… she  _ wants _ Jace here. She has no reason to. In fact, out of everyone she’s encountered since the art show, he’s the one she’s spent the least amount of time with, yet he’s the one she keeps hoping for. It’s an instinct she can’t shake, though she does her best to ignore it for now.

Clarissa finishes the pentagram and stands back with the others, stopping at the nearest point outside the circle. Simon stands to her right immediately, and she feels a comfort in his dedication to this - to her. Despite the fact that the others are keeping things from her she finds that she doesn’t trust them any more or less than Simon, but his willingness to tell her the whole truth, no matter how dangerous, definitely wins him some brownie points. 

It’s still upsetting for her to see the emotions in their eyes when they look at her - everyone other than Lorenzo, who spares her the occasional pitying glance but otherwise doesn’t seem as invested as the others despite finding himself in the middle of her problems. He stands beside Simon, and then Magnus. Isabelle falls in to Clarissa’s left. 

“Isabelle clearly remembers the last time we performed this ritual,” Magnus says, not without a hint of amusement, and Clarissa wonders how he can be so calm when they’re about to summon a demon. 

“And Lorenzo, I assume this isn’t your first memory demon?” Magnus grows more serious at this question, and Lorenzo’s eyes darken just a moment before he shakes his head to confirm Magnus’ assumption. Clary wonders after the look in Lorenzo’s eyes if they were his memories, but doesn’t dare to ask. 

Magnus continues. “Then for Clarissa and Simon’s sakes, here’s what’s about to happen. Since there are two warlocks present we should be able to keep the demon contained without joining hands. Less risk of one of you breaking the seal and freeing the demon this time - if Mr. Rey is up for the challenge, of course?”    
  
Lorenzo scoffs. “Child’s play.” 

Magnus nods. “It’s  _ imperative _ that you all do exactly as I say, no matter what. When the demon asks for payment, and he will, do  _ not _ try to bargain with him directly. Any issues will be mediated through me, and only me. Understood?” 

Clarissa looks around the circle at the faces of these people she doesn’t know, friends she doesn’t recognize. This is their world, not hers, not really. Magnus’ questioning gaze lands on her last and she hesitates. It isn’t too late to say no. She can turn and walk away, back to her roommate and art school and the life she’s starting to build for herself from her artwork, and leave all of this behind. She doesn’t remember them, and if she doesn’t go looking for answers then maybe she never will. Maybe she’d be better off. 

But she knows better than to think it would last. She might be okay for a day or two but her comfort in the familiar would wear off soon enough in favor of pursuit of the truth. She has to do this, not just for the hopeful faces around her, but for herself. 

Whoever that may be. 

Clarissa nods. 

Almost instantly a circle of magic flows through them, connecting them and completing the circle. Tendrils of blue and yellow reach out and mingle together to form intersecting waves of green energy. 

Magnus speaks again, this time in a harsh language she doesn’t understand.Isabelle and Simon tense on either side of her as a black smoke forms in the center of them the moment Magnus stops speaking. The pulse of the magic grows brighter, stronger around them in response. 

“Valak is here,” Magnus announces. Clarissa can hardly see him through the nearly solid mass of swirling smoke, his voice distant through the sound of wind that rips through the center of them, but he raises his voice louder to be heard above it. “The payment he demands is a cherished memory of someone you’ve lost.” 

Clarissa feels the tension that fills the room. The blue and yellow magic flickers for a moment before solidifying again. Are they rethinking agreeing to help her? She can’t ask this of them, the price is too high. No one should have to lose a memory of a loved one. 

“What if I give five memories?” She shouts the question to Magnus. 

“That isn’t how this works, Biscuit,” Magnus says, his voice is sad and almost too quiet to hear above the roar between them. A moment later he jerks forward and the image of a green man with horns glaring at a potted cactus Magnus holds out to him is visible in the smoke before vanishing entirely. Isabelle is next, and there’s the image of a girl roughly their age dressed in all black, covered in runes and placing a blade on a holster around her thigh. The girls laughs, and then she’s gone. 

The trade of one memory to get back hundreds is an easy one for her, at least. Clarissa takes a second to close her eyes and think of her favorite image of herself and her mother before it appears in front of her. Their hands are covered in brown paint as they press down on white paper on the table, laughing when she smudges what’s meant to turn into a turkey. One of her first memories of making art with her mother. She can feel the physical loss of it deep within her, tears stinging her eyes as it’s gone. The sadness turns off like the flip of a switch and she doesn’t know what she’s so upset over - she knows it was something important, but---

Simon is next. There’s no hesitation before two women are on the screen, one old enough to be his mother, the other probably his grandmother. She glances to her side to see the heartache reflected in Simon’s eyes as he watches it play out one last time before he loses it forever. They’re at a table and they’re laughing, passing a bowl between them, and then it’s gone. 

Last is Lorenzo. There’s the longest pause here, first double any of the other’s, then triple, before Magnus grunts against the effort of keeping the circle sealed around them while Lorenzo is clearly distracted. 

“Hurry… up…” Magnus manages, struggling not to let the circle of magic containing the demon break. Clarissa senses the concern there, and wonders if all of this will be for nothing if Lorenzo decides she isn’t worth giving up that memory for. She wouldn’t blame him if he does, but selfishly looks over at him, eyes locking in a silent plea.  Lorenzo takes a deep breath and steels himself before a memory is finally torn from him as well - Lorenzo, laying with a sheet draped artfully over him while he lies mostly naked on a bed, looking up at the affectionate gaze of a man paining him with nothing but love and adoration in his expression. And then it’s gone. 

That’s it, Clarissa thinks. That’s everyone. She waits expectantly for whatever comes next, trying her best to look stoic and resolved when she can feel her heartbeat racing so fast it almost hurts, fingers curling and uncurling anxiously at her side. 

“Valak accepts our payment,” Magnus says, finally. “Clarissa, step into the circle.” 

Clarissa eyes the swirling mass of black smoke in front of her. For a moment she isn’t sure she can do this: there’s a  _ demon _ in that mass, even if she can’t clearly see it. Or maybe the demon  _ is _ the mass, it isn’t like she was told many specifics about all of this before they started. But one look around at the people who willing sacrificed something so important to them, something personal they’ll never be able to get back again, and she knows that she has to hold up her end of the deal now. 

“Clary--” Simon says, clearly also rethinking this part of the plan, but Clarissa only shakes her head.

“I’ll be fine,” she says, not sure if the words are more for Simon’s reassurance or her own before taking two steps forward. 

It’s deafening, like being caught in a windtunnel, high-pitched whistling filling her ears as the entity around her passes by at impossible speeds. All of a sudden she feels hands over her head, fingertips coming to rest over her temples, and she freezes, closing her eyes. She doesn’t want to see it, afraid that if she does, she'll go running and ruin everything. But she can feel the demon behind her, crowding her space, pressing against her back as the fingers press harder. 

And then it starts. She can pick apart a memory or two as they flood back her, passing through her mind like rushing waves before landing back in their rightful places. Luke taking her to the farm, riding around the back of his pick-up truck since there isn’t anyone else around for miles.  Waiting for Simon to pick her up in the van he uses for her band which she spray-painted with the words ‘ _ Midnight Burrito’ _ . Sketching art for their graphic novel, symbols and creatures that tug at something she can’t quite recall, something that hasn’t been returned to her here and now. So many of the memories feature Simon, grabbing coffee, sitting in his room while he tested out new chords for something he just wrote… Simon Lewis, her best friend. 

She remembers birthday parties and sleepovers and visiting the police station where Luke would let her hold his badge and sit at his desk, but only after he took away any important papers from the top of it. Luke, the man who practically raised her. How could she ever forget him? 

Her mother is a part of so many of the missing memories. She always thought she just had a boring childhood with little worth remembering, but now she realizes that it’s just that so many of her memories included the two people who were taken from her… or was she taken from them? It’s a lot. It’s too much. Her brain can’t pick apart the images and they overwhelm her all at once, blending together and making her head spin until she closes her eyes against the onslaught of images to help. 

But it doesn’t help, and a moment later she blacks out, the swirling cloud vanishing the second her body slumps to the ground. 

\--- 

When Clary wakes up it’s to the sound of voices. A lot of voices, speaking in hushed tones from almost all sides of her. 

“Maybe we should call a doctor.”   
  
“A  _ mundane _ doctor? For a girl we just overdosed with memories? She’ll end up in a psych ward, Simon.”   
  
“So Catarina, then?”   
  
“My healing magic is perfectly capable. She doesn’t  _ need _ a doctor, she just needs time. That amount of memories, her brain has to catch up with itself, file everything back away and reboot the system, as it were.”   
  
“The food is ready, if anyone is hungry while we wait.” 

The voices come into better focus and her eyes flutter open at the smell of something delicious. She speaks slowly, feeling groggy like she overslept too many alarms after a hangover. 

“Did someone say food?” Clary manages. 

“Clary!” Simon says, moving to kneel beside the sofa she’s resting on. “Are you alright? How do you feel? Do you need anything?”    
  
Clary opens her mouth to speak again but finds it uncomfortably dry. “...water?” 

“I’ll get it,” Simon says, but before he can so much as stand up Magnus has a glass of water in his hands, holding it out to her. 

Clary takes it and drinks slowly, aware of the expectant looks aimed her way. 

“It worked,” she says finally, placing the glass on the table in front of her. Clary turns to Simon specifically, practically beaming. “Growing up together, working on our graphic novel, your band with Maureen… all of it.”

Clary stands up on shaky legs, wrapping her arms around Simon. She can hear him make a quiet sound next to her ear that’s part laugh, part sob. 

“I missed you, Fray.” Simon beams, but it only lasts a moment or two before he sees the troubled look still on her face when she pulls away. 

“But if I didn’t give them away with the others, why did you take them? They’re all so harmless.” 

Simon looks uncomfortable there, and Isabelle decides to chime in. 

“Because Simon and Luke are part of the world you had to give up. We were afraid if you remembered any of us, even from before, it’d put you at risk. It was… we thought it was the right call. We thought it’d be easier.” 

Clary glares. “Easier for me, or easier for you?” 

“Maybe easier isn’t the right word. We thought it’d be safer. For  _ all  _ of us. You remember your life before you turned 18 but there’s still a lot you don’t understand, Clarissa-” Magnus starts. 

Clary scrunches her nose. “...please call me Clary again.” 

“ _ Yes, thank you _ , Clarissa was killing me,” Simon readily agrees. 

“But you don’t have any new memories from the past year, do you?” Magnus continues. She can tell that he’s hopeful she might, that giving her back these memories might trigger something else locked away, but there’s nothing there that she can recall. 

She shakes her head and tries not to feel guilty for the look of disappointment that falls across everyone’s faces. Realistically she knows that she has no control over it. She’s doing everything she can to try and get them back, to understand what she did in the past to get her here today, but that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. She isn't who they want her to be. She may never be again. 

“Clary? Are you alright? You look a little pale.” Simon says, reaching a hand out to touch her shoulder. “Let’s get some food in you.” 

However, with all eyes in the room on her and the weariness and exhaustion of the past 24 hours settling in, Clary realizes that what she needs isn’t water, or food, or a pat on the back and words of reassurance. Everything is changing and she feels lost in her own body; she just needs something familiar. 

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I think I need to go home.” 

She immediately senses the discomfort that settles over everyone in the room at that. 

Magnus speaks first, slowly. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. Maybe you should stay here with us for a little while, just until-” 

“You said I wasn’t a prisoner, remember? Not kidnapped, free to leave at any time. Or did that change?” She’s too tired to fight, and that defeat must be obvious because instead of insisting, Magnus’ expression softens. 

“Of course not. We’re only trying to help you. If you don’t want to be here, that’s your decision. Just say the word and I’ll portal you back to your room.” 

Clary’s a little surprised by how easy that was, expecting much more of a fight. “Thank you,” she says, the words a sigh of relief. “For everything,” she adds, looking around at Simon, Isabelle, and Lorenzo as well. “I’m not… I’m not running away from this, I promise.” The last thing she wants is for them to think she just used them for the ceremony and now they’ll never see her again. “I just need some time.” 

Simon looks like he wants to argue, but when Izzy says, “Of course, Clary. We completely understand.” Simon can only bite his lower lip and nod in agreement. 

“Can you give me your numbers? That way I can find you again?” She asks, handing her phone to Simon first. 

“Of course,” Simon says quickly, typing in both his and Isabelle’s numbers before passing it to Magnus. When Magnus is done he eyes Lorenzo with a silent question. 

“I think the three of you will be plenty of contact,” Lorenzo says, not unkindly, and Clary just nods and takes her phone back from Magnus. Lorenzo’s helped so far, but only as much as is expected of him. The memory was almost too much - maybe it was too much, but he did it anyway. She may not remember him but she could tell from the start that he isn’t as close to her as the others. 

And then, though she gets the feeling they could find her just fine on their own should they want to, Clary sends the three of them a quick message so they have her number as well. “In case you need to reach me first.” 

Clary hesitates, questioning one last time if she’s making the right decision before Magnus opens a portal and takes her hand to guide her through. She keeps her eyes firmly ahead as she follows. 

“Anything you need, anything at all, and we’re all just a call away,” Magnus reminds her before vanishing back through the swirling vortex, leaving her standing alone on the grass outside her apartment.

When she goes upstairs she turns the key in the lock and opens and shuts the door as quietly as she can behind her, but it isn’t quiet enough to not wake up Rebecca who stirs from where she fell asleep on the living room sofa. 

“I told you not to wait up for me,” Clary says, rolling her eyes in the dark. 

“Yeah, well, you were acting really weird on the phone earlier. And don’t think I believed for a second that your battery died, you panic the second it dips below 50% and plug it back in,” Rebecca mutters half-asleep, wiping at her eyes. 

“Well, as you can see, I’m fine.” 

“Fine? You look like shit,” Rebecca says, shining the flashlight from her phone on Clary as she stands to maneuver through the darkness.

“Thanks. I’m just exhausted. It’s been a long night,” Clary admits. 

“Have a nice blast from the past with those old friends you ran into?” Rebecca asks, directing the light down the hall towards their bedrooms. 

Clary, following behind, takes a deep breath. She wishes she could tell her roommate just how right she is about that. “You don’t know the half of it,” she comments instead. 

“Well, you can fill me in tomorrow. G’night, Rissa.” 

Clary cringes at the nickname, wondering what she’s going to say to Rebecca in the morning. But more than that, she wonders how she’s going to go back to her normal life knowing she has some secret past lurking just beyond her reach. 

...for the first time since all of this started, Clary realizes that there’s a good chance her life as an art student isn’t the life she’s meant to go back to. 


	17. Part Seventeen: Alec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec fills Luke in on recent developments, and after a report is officially filed Alec finds someone unexpected running point on Clary's case.

Alec takes the portal back to Alicante, a feeling of unease immediately settling into his stomach. He goes home first, stalling any actual decision making he needs to do by pacing the living room back and forth for about thirty minutes straight. He knows what he’s  _ supposed  _ to do. He knows what he  _ should  _ do. He knows what he  _ wants  _ to do. But what weighs on him the most is what everyone else  _ expects  _ of him. His friends and family who stayed behind because they didn’t have the same doubts and hold-ups that plague him ever since he took this position. 

He should’ve stayed to help, consequences be damned. 

Alec isn’t sure exactly what they’re doing but he can hazard an educated guess… though as memories of the last time they tried to get Clary’s memories back from Valak come to him, he thinks that perhaps it’s for the best that he  _ isn’t _ there to ruin things a second time, or at least not have to talk resurface about that rather embarrassing turn of events. 

So they’re summoning Valak, probably. They’re getting Clary’s memories of Simon and Luke back. That… that he doesn’t have to report. After all, they were the ones who took those away, and he’s relatively certain that the Clave isn’t even aware of that whole thing transpiring. 

But he can’t hide the fact that she showed up to the Institute: she’s on the cameras, which they could wipe, but people  _ saw her _ , which complicates things. That much he’ll have to make sure they report. And if she was at the Institute obviously she remembers something. He can only see one clear choice here: he needs to head whatever investigation they’re going to propose. It’s the only way to keep Clary safe -  _ properly _ safe. 

With a solution that seems to work for now he pulls out his phone and calls Luke. 

“Luke, hey, sorry if I woke you. Up for a trip to Alicante? I need to fill you in on a few developments.” 

It isn’t long before Luke arrives and is escorted to Alec’s apartment. Normally pre-planned visits are allowed to come and go at will, but this is Lucian Graymark showing up in the middle of the night with no notice, as Alec didn’t have enough time to alert anyone else to the impromptu meeting. He can hardly blame them for being a little overly cautious, and thankfully Luke doesn’t seem too put-off when he makes it to the penthouse loft. 

The moment they’re alone Alec wastes no time updating him on everything that happened before he left the group at Lorenzos, as well as everything he expects is happening now. 

“...she’s going to remember me?” Luke repeats quietly when Alec is done. 

“If everything goes according to plan, then yes. Her memories of you and Simon that we took will be returned, but only the ones we took. We won’t know if it triggers anything from after her birthday or not, but she’ll remember growing up with you.” 

Alec catches the watery shine in Luke’s eyes, the way his lips are pulled a little too night into the most neutral expression he can muster as he nods that he understands. Alec knows he’s two seconds away from crying and trying very, very desperately not to let that happen. For a moment he hesitates, and then moves forward to pull Luke into a hug. 

“I’m sorry we ever did it in the first place. And it didn’t even matter in the end.” Alec sighs in frustration as he takes a step back again. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, it really did. They all agreed to it in the end, some more reluctantly than others, but… but maybe they were wrong. Maybe he was wrong. Because no matter how much they agreed it was a group decision all eyes kept coming back to him and he supported the idea through and through. 

“It’s fine, Alec. I thought it was the best call, too. We just wanted to keep her safe, we had no way of knowing keeping our distance wouldn’t make a difference one way or another. At least it isn’t irreversible.”  Luke smiles at him now, wide and genuine, and Alec’s relieved to hear he’s taking the news well. Not just well - Luke looks relieved, excited, almost.

“I’ll text you when Magnus gets back with any developments. Sorry to drag you all the way out here in the middle of the night, but I don’t think I’m putting this bit in the report so I didn’t want to discuss it over the phone.” 

“But you are telling them about Clary’s other memories?” Luke questions, the excitement dropping away immediately for something far more serious. 

“Yes. I think so. The Institute’s cameras caught her, which is one thing, but people saw her, too. That’s too many variables to try and cover up, and if I want to get ahead of this we don’t need it to sound like some scandal we tried to hide.” Alec pauses. “Unless you think that’s a terrible idea?” 

It isn’t a rhetorical question. Luke might still be acclimating to some of the finer points of life as a Shadowhunter again but Alec trusts his judgment and the experiences he lived through. Plus, Luke hears things that Alec doesn’t since everyone watches what they say around the Inquisitor. 

Luke shakes his head “No, you’re right. The longer we try to cover it up the more of a scandal it’ll be if something gets out. Just make sure we’re all on the same page with whatever you report.” 

And there it is again - Luke showing that unwavering confidence, the complete willingness to go ahead with whatever Alec decides, trusting his judgment. 

“I will. Talk to you tomorrow, get some rest,” Alec says. 

“You too. I know how you get - don’t let this keep you up all night,” Luke advises before walking out the door. 

Alec doesn’t have to wait long after that before Magnus shows up and Alec levels him with an expectant gaze before his husband is even fully through the portal. 

“Well, this has certainly been an evening,” Magnus says, stretching and allowing himself a yawn he’s been holding back for hours. Alec notes that he’s moving a lot more slowly, like every step is a strain.   
  
“Did something happen?” Alec asks, concern spiking.    
  
“I didn’t call you, did I?” Magnus points out. Alec immediately relaxes. “No, it went fine.  I just used more magic tonight than I have in a long while… this will probably be the best night’s sleep I’ve had in weeks.” Magnus yawns again. “She remembers Simon and Luke now, but nothing more.” 

“Where is she now?” Alec imagines she’d probably just stay at Lorenzo’s, or maybe go back to Simon’s apartment, or the Institute with Simon or Izzy… what he doesn’t expect is the answer Magnus gives him. 

“She went back to her apartment.” 

Alec tenses, not liking that idea at all, and Magnus can read that on him the moment he says it. 

“We couldn’t hold her captive, Alec. She wanted to leave. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think she’s going to say anything about any of this, not to any of her mundane friends.” Magnus does his best to reassure him, walking over to where Alec stands to place a hand on either shoulder and begin to massage them, slow and deep. 

Alec allows his head to roll back at the touch. “Don’t try and win me over with shoulder rubs,” he mutters, but the softness of his tone betrays the fact that it’s too late, he’s already given in to it. “Well, that decides it, then. I at least have to report Clary remembering bits of the Shadow world. If she starts going back to others, like Maia where the Jade Wolf was, or maybe the Seelie entrances or the Dumort, we need to get ahead of this.” 

“Agreed. But maybe Isabelle should file the report, since the Institute is where she showed up at, and it was Underhill and Lorenzo who took her away after that? I know you want to take responsibility for everything but this might go over better coming from a lower chain of command.” All the while he speaks he works on loosening the knots in Alec’s tense shoulders, and when he opens his mouth to agree with Magnus’ suggestion a moan escapes instead. 

“You’re probably right. Let me go talk to Isabelle-” Alec starts, taking a step away to head towards the door before Magnus cuts him off.    
  
“Alexander, you’re doing it again. Just call her. She’s more than capable of handling this. And then you-” Magnus moves to stand in front of Alec, pointing a finger into his chest for emphasis. “And I are going to get some rest. The Clave is hardly going to do anything about this in the middle of the night.” 

“This is why I keep you around,” Alec jokes, leaning in for a quick kiss. 

“That’s the only reason, is it?” Magnus challenges with a raised eyebrow, already backing towards the bedroom. “Ten minutes, then I’m cutting the cell service with a ward, don’t think I can’t.” 

Alec isn’t sure if that’s a genuine threat or not but he doesn’t particularly wants to find out. The call to Isabelle is short and sweet anyway - they’re on the same page already, at least concerning keeping the bits about the memory demon to themselves. She agrees to draft a short report on Clary showing up at the Institute, simply stating that Underhill called Lorenzo, they watched over her until she woke up again, and when she didn’t remember anything more than some vague ideas and feelings they let her go. Short, sweet, and easy for them all to keep straight. 

Nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds later, to a half-asleep mumbled “You’re lucky” from Mangus, Alec entered the bedroom, changed into some sweatpants, and curled up against Magnus under the sheets. 

“I can hear your brain worrying from here,” Magnus says, voice barely above a whisper. 

“...can you cut that off with Magic, too?” Alec only half-jokes, knowing that Magnus could use his magic to help him sleep if he really wanted him to. But he doesn’t, not with how exhausted Magnus is after everything else tonight. “It’s fine. Like you said, nothing we can do for now. Might as well get some rest to face Jia in the morning.” 

Alec closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep, doing his best not to fixate on the entirely unpredictable response Isabelle’s report will bring in the morning. 

\---

Or, as it would seem, entirely predictable, as Alec awakes to a fire message that arrives just as he starts his first pot of coffee for the morning. 

_ Strategy meeting re: Isabelle’s report at 9.  _

_ Don’t be late, you know how my mom gets.  _

_ -Aline  _

Of course they assume he already knows about Isabelle’s report, there’s no use playing dumb there. But a full strategy meeting over it? Seems a bit overkill. 

Nevertheless he’s dressed and out the door by 8, not wanting to wake up Magnus and exhaust his magic further by asking for a portal. A little walking won’t kill him - in fact, it’ll be good to clear his head before the meeting. 

When he arrives he’s surprised to see the room sparsely populated with just a handful of advisors, Aline, and Jia. 

“Where’s Isabelle?” Alec questions. It isn’t like her to be late for things. 

“Oh, we didn’t invite her here,” Jia says simply, taking out a piece of paper and handing it over to him before she takes a seat. “Her report made it very clear she had little to say on this matter, and I thought it best to discuss things with you first.” 

“Of course,” Alec says, reading Isabelle’s familiar handwriting while he walks over to sit opposite Jia, and Aline settles in beside her mother. 

Isabelle did as they agreed - just the facts, with a note on the end saying that while confusing, she doesn’t believe Clary’s actions are a threat to them. 

“Do you agree?” Aline asks. 

“From what I know, yes. I got a brief update from her last night - Clary doesn’t remember anything specific. She ended up at the Institute but didn’t know why, or what it is. And even if she did get more of them back - Clary Fray is hardly a threat. She’s only ever sacrificed to help our people.” He knows siding so quickly with Isabelle is a risk, but he can’t help it. He made promises to look after Clary’s well being in this - promises to Jace, to Luke… to all of them. 

“The Angels took her memories from her, Mr. Lightwood-Bane. Don’t you think getting them back will upset them? Don’t you think there may be  _ consequences _ to that?” Jia demands. 

Alec sighs. “I don’t know. If they didn’t want her to have them, they’d just take them away again, right? Or they would’ve made them go away forever in the first place. Don’t you think the fact that they’re returning at all is a sign that perhaps the Angels  _ want _ her to have them back?” Alec isn’t sure he believes that himself, that perhaps the very angel blood that gave her special abilities is also what’s fueling this break through the block the Angels put on her. But he isn’t here to nod his head and agree with everything Jia says, so for the sake of playing the Devil’s advocate he puts the idea forward anyway. 

Not that it matters. Apparently ‘discussing strategy’ is just code for Jia telling him exactly what she already has planned for how to deal with this situation. For the most part Aline remains quiet, chiming into the discussion now and again with something new to consider, trying her best to remain neutral. Jia’s strategy is pretty simple: assign some of the researchers to look into any past cases of de-runed Shadowhunters regaining their abilities, monitor Clary, and have a small committee stay on top of new developments and contingency plans. They can both agree that for now this stays out of public knowledge, much to Alec’s relief. 

“I’d like to run point on this mission, I-” Alec begins to offer, though that’s as far as he gets. 

“Absolutely not,” Jia denies before he even finishes his sentence. Aline winces slightly beside her at the harsh tone. 

“Why?” Alec demands. “I already know what she’s capable of should she get her full abilities back somehow, and-” 

“That’s precisely it. You’re too close to this. You all are, but unfortunately there’s no getting around Isabelle’s involvement as Head of the Institute being affected.” Jia pauses, and Alec doesn’t like the look that crosses her face as she adds, “Which is why I’ve already sent over a representative to run point for me in New York.” 

Alec wonders how many text messages and missed calls from Izzy he’s going to walk out of this meeting to. He wants to ask who she sent but he doesn’t want to give Jia the satisfaction of thinking he cares who she set up in his place. Thankfully he doesn’t have to, because Jia offers up the information herself. 

 Alec can hardly keep the surprise from his face over hearing Jia speak one of the last names he expects. 

“Considering what happened to her the last time she was there, I was surprised at how eager Miss Branwell was to go back.” 


	18. Part Eighteen: Jace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jace, only recently updated on everything that happened while he was back at the Institute, is the first one to come face-to-face with Lydia upon her arrival.

“You let her go home _? _ ” Jace says, pacing back and forth across the length of Izzy’s office. He wishes they were in the training room instead, not just for more pacing room but also because he has the sudden urge to punch something, and hard. He’s had a stressful couple of hours. 

It was bad enough he was meeting with his mother and Luke when Clary arrived at the Institute. He can’t imagine how she got there but he wishes that it was him there to greet her… someone who cares about her. Someone she can trust. Not that he doesn’t trust Underhill, or (to an extent now) Lorenzo, but… it should’ve been him. Maybe he could’ve helped… but instead she ended up so overwhelmed that they had to knock her out not once, but twice. 

It certainly should’ve been him to go to her after she woke up again but instead he found himself benched, waiting for some kind of update from Simon or Isabelle since  _ they _ were allowed to go. He tried to sleep, or eat, or train - anything to get his mind off of the waiting. He hated waiting. He hated feeling helpless. The only thing that kept him from completely losing himself to worry was the fact that Simon was there. Simon knew Clary the longest, and Jace can admit that even with how deep his love for Clary is, Simon loves her just as much, if not even more in his own way. He felt entirely reassured by the fact that Simon was there…

...until just now, when Izzy and Simon got back and gave him the rundown of what happened. 

“What do you mean,  _ you let her go home _ ?” He repeats, his voice rising. 

“Jace, calm down. It isn’t like she ran away. We know where she is, we know how to contact her. We’re keeping an eye on her the same as we were before,” Izzy reassures him. 

Jace turns an accusing eye to Simon, the look on his face silently asking how  _ he _ could let this happen. 

“Hey, don’t give me that look,” Simon says, taking a step back and putting his hands up. “I got them to agree to get her memories back, remember? I’m on her side, here. If anything, I should be the most upset. She remembers me and  _ still _ didn’t want to stay.” 

This, finally, gives Jace enough pause to really take a step back and look at the situation. There’s a definite pain in Simon’s eyes, his words shaky even as he uses them to insist that it’s the right thing to do. When Clary started to remember Jace he was the one to turn and walk away, not the other way around. 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, so softly that he’s sure Simon with his heightened hearing is the only one to hear him. 

“It’s fine,” Simon says back. “I mean,  it isn’t, but. If Clary wants to go back to school, back to her friends and her life there… we can’t force her to stay, can we? Those memories… they’re still the past. Maybe she just likes what she has now better. Can’t say I’d blame her.” 

“Simon,” Izzy chimes in, placing an arm on Simon’s shoulder. Jace watches the moment of comfort between them and wonders if he should excuse himself. It seems too personal, and even a year later it still catches him a little off guard to see his sister drop her defenses so completely around him. Growing up with Isabelle it was always just accepted that her love was a ‘tough love’, but she’s different around Simon. But a good different. 

But when Izzy speaks it isn’t just to reassure Simon. “We don’t even know if that’s what she’s doing. She took our numbers, she’ll call. She just needs some time. Clary got a  _ lot _ of information dumped on her, and it’s only been what… two days? She just needs some time to process.” 

Simon nods. “Yeah. You’re right. I know you’re right. It’s just… I just got her back, and now it feels like she’s gone again already.” 

“Tell me about it,” Jace agrees. “But Izzy’s right,” he adds quickly. “She just needs some time.” 

He has to believe that. After all, this isn’t the first time Clary’s been driven to the Institute on instinct. He has to believe it won’t be the last, for better or worse. But the last thing he wants to do is to force too much on her all at once because  _ he’s _ impatient over missing her this past year. 

“Until then,” Izzy says, walking herself over to some papers sitting on her desk. Jace saw her flipping through them before he arrived, not sure what they were then, but now that his pacing brings him up beside his sister he can see the forms clearly - they’re incident reports. 

Izzy picks them up, hitting them against the desk twice to get them back in order, and then slips them back into a manilla folder in her top pull-out drawer. 

“This doesn’t leave our circle. I haven’t been able to reach Alec yet since we left Lorenzo’s to know if he made an official report about what we stayed behind to do, but as far as I’m concerned since we’re the ones who took those memories from Clary, not the Angels and not the Clave, then we don’t have any obligation to report it.” 

Jace, on a personal level, loves this theory. He wants to keep as much of this away from any sort of official powers as possible, knowing how they tend to overreact when it comes to perceived ‘threats’ to the way things are. It’s changed a lot in the last year, what with the sway Alec and Magnus have in Alicante now, but even so… 

But on a political level, on the level of a soldier who is supposed to care more about the greater good than one girl he has feelings for, he knows the trouble this could get Isabelle into. Especially if Alec  _ did _ go to someone about what’s happening and it looks like she’s trying to cover it up. 

“And if it’s too late for that?” Jace questions. 

Izzy shrugs. “Then we deal with it when it happens. There are too many variables, I can’t possibly plan for all of them. I just have to be… adaptable.” She shrugs again. Jace is almost positive she sounds more confident than she actually feels about all of this but it’s the best they’ve got and he doesn’t push the issue further. 

“So we’re waiting for Alec’s update?” Simon asks. “Because I’m supposed to swing by the Dumort later and I just want to be perfectly clear on what I’m saying about all of this.” 

As if on cue Izzy’s phone rings, and Jace instantly recognizes it as the ringtone she has set for Alec. Her call with him isn’t very long, five, ten minutes at most, and when she hangs up he watches her go back over to the report sheets. 

“We’re reporting only what we have to. That she showed up, that Underhill called Lorenzo to take her away, and that when she woke up she didn’t remember why she came or anything specific about the Shadow World, so they let her go. Everyone got it?” Isabelle spoke as she wrote, keeping the recount of the night’s events to a bare minimum before handing it to Simon. “Hand this to Nightshade to send over on your way out, okay?” 

“Oh,” Simon said, and Jace could see he was caught off-guard by the assumption he’s leaving. “Uh, yeah.” 

“Sorry Simon. It’s just… something tells me this is going to draw some attention sooner rather than later, and it’d probably be better if you weren’t already here in the morning if The Consul shows up about Clary.” 

Simon nods, giving Izzy a quick kiss before turning to leave. “Right. I’ll just… take this and head out, then. It’s late anyway. Keep me posted?” Simon asks, knowing he doesn’t have to - if Izzy doesn’t update him, Jace certainly will. 

“Hey, Si,” Jace says, stopping him on his way to the door. “If you need to talk just call, okay?” The two of them spent a lot of time talking in the year that Clary wasn’t around, and Jace knows Simon well enough now to know that he’ll get himself all worked up over Clary remembering him now the longer she doesn’t reach out. Jace doesn’t blame him, but he also doesn’t want him to think that needing to keep some distance from the Institute for a night means they aren’t there for him. 

“Thanks,” Simon says, and actually looks visibly more relieved at the reassurance before leaving. 

Jace knows Izzy only told Simon to go home for his own good, and he can already see that distracted look in her eyes as she thinks over everything that’s about to fall on them from this. She has the unfortunate habit of pushing everyone away when she's anxious over something Head of the Institute related, ready to take the full brunt of the fallout alone rather than have Simon, or Jace, or anyone else around to help soften the blow. They know not to take it personally but that doesn't make it any less frustrating to deal with sometimes.  

Jace sighs.  “I suppose we should try and catch some beauty sleep before everything we’ve ever done is put under a magnifying glass tomorrow.” 

“Don’t worry, Jace. You’ve done nothing wrong-”    


“When has that ever mattered before?” Jace points out. “Anyway, it isn’t me I’m worried about.” 

“We’ll protect Clary. We haven’t stopped all this time, we aren’t about to now.” There’s a determination in his sister’s tone that Jace can’t help but find comfort in. 

He takes his leave and goes to sleep, but it’s a restless one. After a solid hour or two of tossing and turning with very little actual rest in between he decides to give up, changing into sweatpants and shuffling down to the training room instead. The sun isn’t even up yet when he gets there, doing some technique practice with a few weapons he doesn’t use very often, eyeing a pair of dual kindjals. They aren’t Clary’s - he has those in his room for safe keeping, unwilling to let anyone else claim them as their own even when they thought Clary would never return to this world to use them again. But just the sight of them reminds him why he’s awake right now, why he’s down here instead of sleeping peacefully in his bed, and he grabs for them, testing their weight. 

He goes through a few training exercises, repeating moves which would utilize the sharpened edges on both sides of the blade, until he’s suddenly aware of a presence in the doorway of the training room. His bangs are plastered over his forehead obscuring his view, and at first all he sees is the figure of a woman wearing black, assuming it’s probably just Izzy there to yell at him for not resting. 

The last person he expects to see when he wipes the hair back from his face is Lydia Branwell, hair pulled back into a bun, dressed in a black suit with a blue undershirt that brought out the blue in her eyes, which were narrowed in his direction. 

“I should’ve known you’d be the one making so much ruckus in here at-” she checks the watch around her wrist. “-five in the morning.” 

“...is it five already?” Jace huffs, taking the kindjals and placing them back on the rack he got them from, continuing to speak without turning back around. “And what, might I ask, are you even  _ doing _ here at five am? Or, y’know, at all?” 

He has a sinking suspicion that he already knows the answer to that question but it buys him some time to wrap his head around seeing her here, wondering if there’s any way he can warn Izzy without her noticing. 

“Consul Penhallow sent me to run lead on… well, whatever this whole Clarissa Fairchild event turns out to be. Which I sincerely hope is nothing, just like your sister’s report suggested. But I’m here to gather some more information and keep an eye on things for a little while just the same.” Lydia’s heels click against the floor as she crosses the room toward him. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to take over anything. Just… observing.” 

He catches her easy smile and, much to his surprise, actually finds her words a little comforting. “Alright. Like what you see so far?” he can’t help but add with a wink. 

“You wish, Herondale,” she counters with a light punch to his arm. 

Jace never knows exactly how to read Lydia. They don’t interact often enough for him to be truly comfortable around her, not after the rough start they got off to (even though she did try to side with Magnus at the end of Izzy’s trial, and did a huge solid by being surprisingly cool with Alec leaving her at the altar). But Alec doesn’t seem to mind when she’s around, and neither does Izzy. Jace supposes if anyone should have the reservations it’s the two of them, not him. 

Maybe a few days ago he might’ve humored the words. Flirted back enough to see if there was something to push there, just for fun. They both have the sort of challenging, performance-driven attitudes that could make for a bit of fun together, and after a full year of Clary being gone he’d finally been easing into the idea of actually listening to everyone telling him that refusing to even attempt to move on is only going to make him miserable for the rest of his life. He knew it, on some level, but maybe there was a reason he couldn’t move on this past year, because now that she’s back…

...except she isn’t back, not really. She remembers everything from before the day she first met him, that’s all. There’s no guarantee her full memories are ever going to come back, and if they do that the Angels will let her keep them. 

Or that she’ll even want to pick things up from where she left off.

He hasn’t brought that particular concern up to anyone else yet, knowing the generic lines of comfort he’ll be fed if he does. ‘Of course she will’, ‘she loves you as much as you love her’, etc, etc. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s been a year, and a year can change a  _ lot _ . Look at the few months he’d known Clary before she was taken from them, after all - they changed his entire life, for better or worse. 

At least this time he doesn’t have long to dwell on the idea of Clary not wanting him back in her life, focusing back on the voice (and person attached to it) in front of him. 

“...Herondale? Hello? Earth to Jace?” Lydia says, waving a hand in front of his face. 

“Sorry.” 

“You alright?” Lydia asks, brows furrowed. “You definitely spaced out there, I was afraid I’d have to catch you if you passed out and you’re far too gross for that right now.” Jace is certain he catches a note of actual concern in her voice despite the deflection at the end. 

“Didn’t get much sleep last night,” he says, shrugging it off. “Nothing a nap and a few stamina runes throughout the day can’t fix.” 

“Mmhmm,” Lydia hums in response. Jace can practically see her making a mental note of the entire exchange, and wonders if this will end up in her ‘observations’. ‘ _ Shadowhunters barely sleeping, unable to hold single comprehendable conversation’ _ , he can see it now. 

“Any chance that lack of sleep is over a certain redhead getting her memories back?” Lydia follows up, raising an eyebrow. 

For a second he almost slips up with an instinctively defensive ‘she doesn’t remember us at all, only Simon and Luke’, but catches himself and only shakes his head in reply at first. 

“No. She doesn’t really remember me anyway. This is all some sort of, I dunno, fever dream haze she can’t quite reach, or something. At least that’s what I heard, I haven’t been very directly involved.” He can’t help the bitter tone at the last part of that, but it’s an admission that seems to please Lydia. 

“Too close to her, so Isabelle is keeping you away? I’m surprised, but impressed. Well, at least any concerns of bias Jia might have will be put to rest early on.” 

As if on cue, the click of approaching heels from down the hallway stop short in the doorway. “Of course they will. What sort of Institute do you think I’m running here, Miss Branwell?” 

There’s a moment between them after that where Jace can’t read either of the girls. There’s a tension there, a charge to the air over Lydia’s overheard comment and Isabelle’s reply, and for a second Jace is afraid he’s going to have to step between them…

But then Lydia is smiling and Izzy follows suit, lips pulling into a smirk. 

“Only one of the most reputable Institutes we have to offer,” Lydia shoots back. They both cross to meet one another in the middle of the room, greeting with a hug. “It’s so good to see you again. Sorry it has to be under these circumstances.” 

Isabelle nods. “I understand. Can’t really turn down a direct appointment from Jia, can you?” Lydia shakes her head. “For what it’s worth, if it had to be anyone I’m glad it’s you.” 

“Thanks. I want to help, but I do have to report what’s best. Even if it isn’t-” 

“I know. It’s fine; we’re only interested in doing what’s best for everyone involved as well, so we have nothing to hide. Isn’t that right, Jace?” Isabelle says, roping him back into the exchange. 

Up to this point he’d simply been content to take the step back and watch the back-and-forth between the two, always in awe of how flawlessly Isabelle fell into this role. He was in no shape to take it when Alec left for Alicante, and there’s always been lingering talk of shifting it to him once he was, but he doesn’t think that time will ever come and he’s grateful for it. Watching her here it’s like Izzy was born for this. 

“Of course. After all, our brother is the Inquisitor, we wouldn’t want to do anything that might jeopardize our reputation here.” Jace points out, all charm and innocence. 

Lydia smiles again, but it’s more tense this time. “For all of our sakes, I hope you’re right.” 

Silence settles between them at that. They all know what’s at stake here, not just for Clary, but for them, too. Clary is something the Clave never experienced before, both her abilities as well as the way she left the Shadow World. Shadowhunters are people of tradition, of long-standing rules and categories and they do not do well with sudden changes. Alec’s been the cause of enough of them this past year, to find himself in the middle of yet another unexpected shift in ‘ _ the way things have always been’ _ ... they all know the ramifications that may have, for all of them. 

“Well, as fun as the start of this reunion has been so far, what do you say we break for breakfast before we go about the monotony of a formal interrogation?” Jace suggests, and is relieved to see the eye-roll it produces from both of the women in front of him. 

“Like I said, I’m not even here to  _ do _ anything, just observe. But I’m certainly not going to say no to breakfast. It’ll give us time to catch up,” Lydia agrees. 

Jace allows Lydia and Izzy to leave first, chatting between themselves as they made their way to the cafeteria. He isn’t sure they have a lot to ‘catch up’ on that she wouldn’t already know about… nothing she  _ can _ know about, anyway. It isn’t like they’re friends no matter what sort of front she and Isabelle are putting on here.  _ Especially _ not considering the reason she’s here. 

It’s nearly impossible to read Izzy when she’s around people she needs to present a certain front to because she’s damn good at it, not breaking for a moment, not even to mouth a few words to him or give him a look of anger, or concern, or whatever she may actually be feeling. He doesn’t get the chance to ask her until a few hours after breakfast when Lydia excuses herself to take a call outside. 

“So?” Jace asks Izzy almost immediately. 

“So what?” Izzy asks back. “We knew this was coming.” 

“Yeah, but  _ Lydia _ ? I mean, you were acting friendly enough, but…” he allows the question to hang, implied. 

“Alec told me once not too long ago that I can trust her. He said if I ever needed help and he couldn’t, for whatever reason, I could go to her, so…” Izzy shrugs. 

“Alec said that? Alec, our brother Alec?” Jace repeats incredulously. 

“I know. I’ve heard the same things you have that the two of them butt heads whenever they’re pit against each other in proceedings or policy changes but if he says we can trust her, I’m going to trust her. For now. I’m not an idiot, Jace. The second I think she’s up to something it’s game over.” 

Jace nods. “Alright, if you say so. Or, I guess, if Alec says so.” Something about it doesn’t sit right with Jace but he isn’t going to argue it right now. Instead, he uses their limited time alone together to make sure they’re on the exact same page about everything that happened so far. 

Izzy may trust Lydia for now, but that doesn’t change anything about why she’s here and the scrutiny they’re about to undergo. And he, for one, is going to be ready. 


	19. Chapter Nineteen: Lydia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia's assignment to the New York Institute doesn't receive the warmest of welcomes, but she isn't there to cause trouble. Quite the opposite, actually.

After her last few experiences in the New York Institute: stepping in as acting Head, being left at the altar of her and Alec’s almost-marriage of convenience, and then attacked not once, but twice, once by Hodge and once by Raj while he was possessed by a demon… well, to say she’s avoided the building since that last time is an understatement. 

The idea of going back to a place she’s more than a little convinced is actually cursed for her isn’t how she planned on spending the remainder of her week, but when she finds out that Alec is being banned from the investigation she accepts the placement without question. He didn’t ask her to - he wasn’t given the chance - but he doesn’t have to. Lydia knows that she owes him this one.

Navigating the Clave, hell, surviving in a political world of any kind as a young woman, is nearly impossible. Lydia and Alec realized how much they could help one another about a month after Alec’s wedding. It was the moment they both ended up in the same meeting for the first time and everyone expected the two of them to do nothing but work against one another due to their ‘history’. That alone was no surprise, and they hardly agreed on everything that day, but it didn’t take them long to realize that what they did agree on people took more seriously. One comment of, ‘ _ Well, if Lightwood backs her plan, it has to be worth trying’ _ and they both knew what they had to do to use this to their advantage. 

Despite developing a surprisingly close friendship in private as far as anyone else is concerned the two of them are merely civil out of necessity. When either one of them needs a play backed the other will step in and voice support. The immediate boost of credibility the seemingly reluctant agreement between supposed enemies gives the other’s stance a crucial edge. So far it’s worked wonders but they both know it’s only a matter of time before someone figures them out, so just to stretch this little ploy of theirs out as long as possible they agree not to tell anyone it’s just an act. 

 

That includes Isabelle and Jace, who have no idea that she’s here as a friend and not as a person looking to find fault behind every carefully chosen word they speak to her. They’re currently in the Ops room going over a few potential courses of action for what-if scenarios - what if Clary’s memories return, what if she finds herself back at the Institute, or what if both happen at once? - all the while the most she’s getting from Jace and Isabelle are short, clipped answers which make her increasingly frustrated as they go on.  It takes nearly a full hour for her to get anything substantial out of them, though whether it’s because they’re starting to trust her a little more or because she’s simply wearing them down, she isn’t certain. 

When Lydia’s phone vibrates in the pocket of her suit jacket she’s tempted to ignore it in favor of the conversation she’s having with Jace and Isabelle over the planning table. They’re going over places that Clary might turn up, places of note for Lydia to make sure is under at least casual surveillance if the people can be spared for it, and she’s more than a little invested in what they’re brainstorming.

Of course, if she ignores it and it’s something important, something from Alicante, she’ll never hear the end of it. Without missing a beat in her explanation of how they might be able to drum up some Downworlder informants to keep an eye on things in their respective areas of the city she pulls out her phone and looks down at the name on it. 

Alec. 

One glance at Isabelle and Jace tells her that neither of them know that their brother is calling her, and she knows that they haven’t reached for their phones at all in the past hour, which implies she’s the first one he’s calling after getting out of his meeting with Consul Penhallow. She has to force the small hint of a smile from her face at that revelation as she clears her throat and excuses herself from the table to take the call outside. 

“One second,” Lydia says quickly into the phone after answering, muting the call and making her way briskly to the lawn outside of the Institute. When she puts the phone back up to her ear she’s met with Alec’s immediately exasperated tone. “I can’t believe you just put me on  _ hold _ ,” he says, but she hears nothing but amused (and overly exaggerated) surprise behind the words rather than actual annoyance. 

“Yes, well, forgive me for not wanting your siblings to know you called me before you called them. You’re welcome, by the way,” she quips back. 

“...I take back everything bad I ever said about you. You’re a scholar and a saint, Branwell. Do you want a promotion? I’m certain I could get you one if you only-” 

“Just quit it and tell me why you called,” Lydia interrupts, shaking her head fondly. “I’m certain Isabelle and Jace are already plotting against me every second I’m gone.” 

“They aren’t being awful to you, are they? I know we agreed to keep up certain appearances in public, but-” Alec’s voice trails off. 

“No, no, they’re fine. Jace looks like he trusts me about as far as he can throw me-” 

“So pretty far, then?” 

“Haha, very funny. But they’re being perfectly hospitable considering they think I’m on Jia’s side.” Lydia catches herself shrugging even though Alec can’t see the action. 

“That’s actually why I’m calling. You... aren’t on Jia’s side, are you?” Alec pauses. “It’s okay if you are. I mean, it isn’t, but I’d get it. This whole thing with Clary, it’s a lot of gray area. Completely unprecedented. You don’t think we’re being biased in trying to protect her, do you?” 

Lydia doesn’t answer right away. She can tell the question is bothering him and knows he’s looking for an honest answer, not just the one he wants to hear. And she doesn’t blame him - they were both on the same page about Clary when she first came into the Shadow World on her 18th birthday: she brought nothing but trouble, listened to  _ no one _ , but even worse, she managed to convince the trained Shadowhunters who should’ve known better to join her in breaking or ignoring every single rule in place. 

The first time Lydia was called into the New York Institute it was to take over because Alec and the others were deemed incapable of running things without bias. It makes sense that her being sent here again under similar circumstances would raise the same concerns. Except this time they both know better; it’s amazing what a difference a year can make. 

“Honestly? I think Clarissa Fairchild sacrificed more for the Nephilim in a few months than most do their entire lives. So no, I don’t believe she should be immediately persecuted for something that to my understanding seems entirely out of her control.”  Lydia can’t pretend it isn’t a gamble, that there isn’t a potential danger in Clary regaining memories taken from her directly by the Angels, but that’s no fault of Clary’s. 

Alec hums in reply over the phone. “Okay. Good. I can tell this whole thing is stressing Izzy out, it’s the first big crisis she’s had to deal with since she took over. I just want it to go as smoothly as possible for all of us. Angel knows I’ll catch enough crap for it here.” 

“You aren’t coming back to New York?” Lydia asks, already suspecting the answer. 

“Not any time soon. I’m not allowed anywhere near this officially, at least not until the Clave has a chance to review it first.” She can hear how upset he is over this, and knows how much he wants to be here not just for Clary but for his siblings, too. Alec continues, “But if it isn’t me, I’m glad it’s you.”    
  
“Don’t go getting all sentimental on me, Mr. Inquisitor. Anyway, I’d promise to keep you updated but I’m sure Isabelle and Jace will do a fine job of that on their own.” 

“Jace already texted me twice since you left to take this call,” Alec confirms. 

“Of course he did.” 

“I told him to play nice. Not that he listens to me half the time,” Alec admits. 

“I appreciate the effort. But really, things are fine here. I’ll let you know if I need you to step in but I think we can both make it out of this with our public personas in tact.” Lydia knows it wouldn’t be the worst thing ever to admit that she’s actually rather close with Alec, but right now they’d both hate to lose that slight edge it gives them while making power plays both in Idris and at their old Institutes. 

Like now. If Jia suspected for a second how close the two of them have actually grown over the past year there isn’t a chance in Edom she would’ve sent Lydia over any number of other qualified Shadowhunters. It’s the fact that they’re still presumably at odds that Jia thinks will spin this appointment in her favor. What an unfortunate awakening she’s in for. 

That is, if Lydia can get Isabelle to cooperate with her. 

Lydia heads back inside to hear Isabelle and Jace whispering back and forth words that stop abruptly when they see her enter the room again. 

“Sorry about that,” Lydia says. 

“Updating the Clave?” Jace accuses, sliding his own phone back into his pocket from what was probably another text to Alec. 

“Speaking with a contact in Alicante,” she allows, not wanting to lie to them but still not sharing the whole truth of the situation. “But that’s neither here nor there. I believe we were discussing keeping some closer eyes on Clary than just occasional video surveillance…” 

Isabelle bristles at that, sharing a pointed look of concern with Jace. “I really don’t think that’s necessary. If she’s just going about her life I don’t see why we have to spy on her.” 

“Because how do you know she’s going about her life, and not on her way right back here as we speak?” Lydia questions, and the silence that follows is all the answer she needs. 

Protecting Clary is one thing - setting up extra eyes on her should be something they want, something to keep Clary safe from stumbling into somewhere she shouldn’t be again. But the way they seem so stubbornly opposed to the idea makes her convinced she’s missing something. There’s got to be something they’re specifically  _ hiding _ \- and she has to wonder how big that something is. She also has to wonder if Alec is hiding it from her, too, or if he doesn’t know himself. She wants to help but she can’t help if she doesn’t have all the pieces to work with.  

“You said she made it as far as the stairs of the Institute before she was taken away. What’s to stop her from getting too close again?” 

Something strange crosses Izzy’s features at that question before they fall back to a neutral impassivity. “The glamours we have up encourage any mundanes walking by to simply keep walking. Clary isn’t a mundane, though, so instead of discouraging her from approaching, she tried to come inside. Of course, that’s what our security team is for. Now that we’re on the lookout for her there’s no way she’d be allowed to get that close again if we didn’t want her to.” 

“And do you? Want her to?” Lydia clarifies. “If she showed back up today, would you let her in, or take her away again? 

“I believe that would depend on the circumstances, don’t you? If she needs help I couldn’t-” Isabelle starts, but catches her words and tries to backtrack. “The Institute would never turn away someone in need.” 

“Even if that someone is a potential threat?” Lydia provokes. In all honesty she’s mostly curious to see how Isabelle is going to play this. It’s better she gets this first round of questioning from Lydia rather than someone higher up, not that Isabelle sees it that way. The flash of challenge in Isabelle’s eyes betrays that much. 

“Now listen here,” Jace finally chimes in. “Clary isn’t a threat, and if you-” 

“I wasn’t asking you, Mr. Wayland,” Lydia cuts him off, turning a cool gaze back to Isabelle who looks about to argue. “Unless the Head of the Institute needs someone to speak for her?” 

“How dare-” Jace starts again, but this time it’s Isabelle who cuts him off. 

“No, Jace, it’s fine. In fact, how about you go give that debriefing we were discussing earlier to the daytime security patrol, and I’ll meet up with you when we’re done here.” 

It sounds like a suggestion but they all know that coming from the Head of the Institute any suggestion is actually an order. As much as Jace absolutely does not want to walk away from this conversation he has to know how bad it would look if he didn’t listen to his direct superior, right? One glare in Lydia’s direction is all the answer she needs to that silent question. 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll report back later,” he says, his words more a huff than actual speech. Jace hesitates just a moment longer, giving Isabelle a chance to change her mind if she wants, before turning to leave. 

All morning she’s been trying to work through Jace’s distrust and the way he’s done nothing but  counter her at every turn, often just for the sake of being contrary. Hopefully with Jace out of the way she can make some proper progress with Isabelle, who waits until her brother’s gone from the ops room entirely before speaking again. 

“You’ll have to excuse Jace. All of this has been a lot for him to deal with, he’s a little on the defensive side as you can tell.”    
  
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Lydia replies, but allows a small smirk to accompany the words. “It’s alright, I’m not taking it personally. He doesn’t have to like me for us to coexist here.” 

Isabelle shrugs. “No, he doesn’t; but he should know better than to lash out at you like that. He wants to be here for me but I want you to know that I’ve kept him as far away from everything with Clary as possible. I know he shouldn’t be involved, objectively speaking, despite being my best Shadowhunter.” 

Lydia nods, making a note of that. She isn’t sure if Isabelle is just saying that because it’s what she thinks Lydia wants to hear, but she doesn’t think that’s the case.

“Same reason Consul Penhallow is keeping Alec in Alicante for the time being. It’s a good call. But that still leaves the question I asked before - what about your involvement? Are you capable of doing what needs to be done if Clary’s a threat?” Lydia hates asking the question but she knows that she has to. It’ll be the one point Lydia expects to be hounded on upon her return from New York. 

“If I believe Clary poses any danger to this Institute or the people in it, then yes. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect them,” Isabelle assures her. 

“And what if you don’t believe she does, but someone else does? Someone higher up?” 

That’s really what this all boils down to. It doesn’t matter what Jace, or Isabelle, or even Lydia thinks, if the orders come down from above one day. This is why she’s really here, and what Isabelle really needs to be prepared for. 

“I know how to follow orders,” Isabelle says, but her tone is much more resigned this time. “That’s all this is, isn’t it? You show up here and pretend to take down notes and statements and they’re just going to do whatever they want to do anyway, no matter what I say. None of this matters.”  

Lydia bites down on her lower lip for a moment. She should just let this go, it isn’t her place and it certainly isn’t going to help the detached appearance she’s meant to keep up while on this assignment… but all she can think about is how stressed out about this Isabelle is, according to Alec’s phone call. Lydia knows her presence here is a big part of that stress, and to encourage this manner of thinking is only going to make things exponentially worse. 

“That isn’t true. All of this matters. In fact, I’m not sure it’s ever mattered more than it does right now,” Lydia admits. 

Isabelle looks over at her unable to hide the surprise from her expression. 

“I know you think I’m your enemy but I’m not. I’m just here to do my job, same as you. I don’t want to see you fail but that doesn’t mean there aren’t those who do.” Lydia warns cryptically, knowing how closely she’s toeing the line of actually admitting she cares here. “If you hold up that well with everyone you talk to about this, you’ll be fine.”

Despite Lydia’s attempt to show genuine support Isabelle is too suspicious to accept it at face value. Isabelle seems at a loss for words at first but recovers quickly, her guard back up in an instant. “So what? That’s it, I passed your little test?” 

“Unfortunately I’m going to be somewhat of a permanent fixture around here for the next few days. Looks like you aren’t getting rid of me that easily.” Lydia knows she shouldn’t be disappointed that they’re right back to treating one another the way they were before, with nothing more than professional courtesy. It’s probably for the best. 

“I guess we can set you up with one of the spare bedrooms, then,” Isabelle offers, not that she has much of a choice. “Hope you don’t mind slumming it for a few days, I’m sure the quarters will be much smaller than you’re used to back in Idris.” 

Lydia catches the implication that she’s used to living better than this, better than Isabelle, what with her relatively safe position as an envoy to the Clave. And it’s true, she can’t argue it, even if it isn’t what she wants for herself. Lydia may have taken a few steps back after the death of her first fiance but she’s back on the right path again, and one day she hopes to be in Isabelle’s position, only back at the Lisbon Institute she once planned on running with John. 

So instead of feeding into the bait this time Lydia simply shrugs her shoulders. “I’m sure whatever you have available will be more than suitable for a day or two, thank you.” 

Isabelle gives her a level look. “What are you playing at here?” Isabelle demands, dropping the vague niceties. 

Lydia sighs. Isabelle just can’t take a subtle hint at a truce, can she? “Like I said before, I’m just trying to make it through another assignment in one piece. Same as you. So what do you say we both make that as easy on one another as possible to get me out of your hair quicker. Deal?” 

 

After considering the offer for a long moment, Isabelle nods. “Deal.” 

 

It isn’t much, Lydia thinks, but it’s a start. 


	20. Part Twenty: Maia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once Simon fills the Downworld Leaders in on (most of) the recent events, Meliorn calls for a meeting - a meeting without the Nephilim - which leaves Maia on edge.

Maia absolutely despises being kept in the dark. The last thing she heard from Jace was that he  _ had _ no update to give her, which is bullshit and she knows it. Clary showed up painting runes on the wall of her diner, that isn’t nothing and there’s no way that sort of thing is just flying under their radar with no developments. 

But every time she reaches out to Jace, or Simon, or even Alec, she hears nothing back. If they’re all too busy to send her so much as a single text she wants to know what’s happening and she isn’t inclined to wait until they’re free enough to spare her a few seconds. 

Taking out as much of her lingering frustration as she can on the renovations but that can only last so long. It’s like Simon can read her mind, because the moment she drops her paintbrush and seriously considers just waltzing into the Institute unannounced she gets a text from him:  _ ‘You working on Taki’s? I’m swinging by in a few.’  _

She texts back  _ ‘Yes, please. I’m going insane here!’  _ and doesn’t manage to focus on any more work between then and when Simon arrives just shy of an hour later. 

“Trying to make up for not texting me back by showing up in person?” Maia accuses, sliding into a recently installed booth. There’s some truth there, the frustration she feels seeping through into her tone, but there’s very little actual anger. Not at Simon, at least, and especially not when he’s the first one to come with any information. 

In response, Simon holds up a paper bag as he sits opposite her. “I come bearing a peace offering. I didn’t know what you’d want so I got one muffin, one croussaint, and one bagel.” 

Maia eyes the bag to see it’s from her favorite bakery across the city, and tries to roll her eyes at him but the action loses its impact when she smiles and grabs for the bag.

“Fine. You’re forgiven, but only if you tell me what the hell is going on here.” 

Simon picks of from where Jace left off the day Clary showed up and then ran off, leaving behind nothing more than a rune painted on the wall. Her suspicions, from the sound of it, are  true - Clary’s starting to get her memories back. Clary showed up at the Institute and they got her away before she ended up inside but now there’s this whole Clave investigation going on which is why Simon’s here, killing time delivering messages around the city, rather than there where his presence might just make matters worse: apparently Simon just came from meeting with Lily at the Dumort to give her a rundown as well. 

“But there are a few things Isabelle kept out of the official reports,” Simon continues, slowly. Something strange passes across his features - Maia knows him well enough to be able to read some of those little tells, even now - he’s clearly upset about something. 

“What is it? Wait, do I want to know?” Maia clarifies. After all, she’s starting to get the feeling that this has more layers to it than either of them might be aware of. If the Shadowhunters are lying or forging reports to cover for themselves, Maia isn’t sure she wants to play a part in that. The debacle with the Soul Sword a year ago is more than enough of a reminder of how tangled those webs get, no matter how good of friends she is with Isablle, Jace, and Alec now. 

‘No, it isn’t anything shady. Well, I mean it is, but nothing illegal. But we got Clary her memories back from before she turned 18.” 

The memories they agreed to take from her after the wedding. Maia remembers how difficult reaching that decision was, to make her forget Simon and Luke entirely. It made sense to keep their worlds entirely separate but now that she’s remembering on her own anyway… what harm could giving the mundane memories back cause? In fact, Simon should be elated that his best friend remembers him again. So why is he sitting in front of her looking like someone just kicked his puppy? 

“What happened? Did something go wrong? You should be thrilled but you kind of look like you need a hug,” Maia attempts to joke, except that only makes Simon look more upset. 

“Nothing went wrong. We did the ritual, she got the memories back, and then she essentially said she needed some time and just… went back to school.” Simon’s voice is soft, slow, and quiet - three things it almost never is. Without missing a beat she stands up and goes to sit beside him, actually giving him that hug she joked about a moment before. 

“I’m so sorry, Simon. But she remembers you now - you have her back, she isn’t going to abandon you now. Just give her some time.” 

“How do you know that? I mean, we abandoned her for this past year. What if she doesn’t forgive us for taking her memories? Or for not trying hard enough to undo what the ANgels did? I mean, everyone said it was irreversible and I just  _ believe them _   because it’s freaking Angels and what do I know, but… what if I should’ve been trying harder all this time to get her back?” 

The words spill out of Simon’s mouth in a rushed jumble of a confession and Maia doesn’t have to ask to know that he’s mostly kept this to himself. “She would never blame you for anything that happened,” Maia insists. 

“How do you know?” Simon sighs. 

“Because she’s Clary. She knows you. And especially now that she has some of her memories back, there’s no way she could ever think there’s anything you wouldn’t do for her. Got it?” Maia isn’t the best at emotional pep talks. She’d much rather pour them each a shot and give Simon a pat on the back, but she isn’t heartless, either. She’s trying here. 

It seems to be enough when Simon gives a small nod. “That’s what Magnus and the others said, too. Not that last bit, but the bit about just giving her a little time to process everything. I guess I’ve just been dreaming of the idea of getting Clary back for so long it just sucks to have it finally happen like this.” 

“Now  _ that _ I can understand. I definitely didn’t expect to make her run out nearly in tears the first time I talked to her in nearly a year. But here we are.” 

The spot on the wall is painted over again, like the rune never existed. 

They’re both quiet for a little while. At least now she knows why no one had the time to return her calls. It is a lot to take in, especially since no one knows what sort of effect it might have on the Shadow World. It’s times like this she misses having Luke around to be the constant guidance the local wolves turn to for guidance, because right now she feels completely lost in the rapidly shifting tides. 

“Promise me you’ll keep me in the loop. I know you’re dating Isabelle and all, and that things have been a lot better lately with the whole Shadowhunters-being-more-transparent thing, but there also hasn’t been anything this big to be transparent  _ about _ the past year, either.” Maia hates saying it, she feels bad for even implying that Simon or the others would intentionally keep things from her, but she has to ask. 

Simon nods. “Yeah, of course. I actually just got back from talking to the vampires and I’m going to the Seelies next. If Clary shows up anywhere else we don’t want it to be a surprise. Lorenzo looked out for her but others might not do the same.” 

There’s concern in Simon’s eyes and Maia wonders how much of it is because of Clary’s reaction, and how much is worry over the last part of his statement; fear of the sort of trouble Clary may find herself in if she doesn’t know to avoid it. 

Still, the news that the Downworlders are being brought in almost immediately on this makes Maia feel a lot better and the relief eases some of the tension she hadn’t realized was building up in her shoulders. If Simon notices he doesn’t say anything.   
  
“Good like with His Majesty down in the Seelie Realm. Is it just me or has he been wound extra tight lately?” Maia asks.

Simon shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t spoken to him much lately - you guys see most of him during the Cabinet meetings. He isn’t exactly sticking around to catch up afterward.” 

“Yeah, I guess. Well, I suppose I should get that over with. Not that I have much to do afterward... I think this was just something Iz threw at me so I wouldn’t feel so useless while Lydia’s around and I’m meant to be keeping my distance. Guess I’m too distracting while she’s supposed to be focusing,” he adds with a wink. 

She knows Simon’s joking but the fact that surely it can’t be a surprise to the Clave that the Shadowhunters are increasingly close with a lot of the Downworlder community. Isabelle’s currently relationship with Simon isn’t a secret in any corner of the Shadow World, so why bother keeping him away? It’s just one of those things that endlessly irritate her about the way the Nephilim play to the outdated culture they claim to have left behind and clearly haven’t, whether they realize it or not. It doesn’t sit well with her - it never has and it never will. 

“I’m sure that’s it,” Maia manages with a light laugh. It’s convincing enough that Simon accepts it as he stands up to leave. “If you’re still bored later there’s more than enough work to do here you could help with.” 

“Maybe,” Simon says. “I’ll let you know.” And with a quick wave he’s gone again. 

Maia manages to go back to some of the work she was doing before, busying herself for several hours before she receives a message. She expects it to be Bat, or possibly Simon or Luke. She doesn’t expect to see Lily’s name pop up on her phone and she certainly doesn’t expect the message accompanying it. 

**_Emergency Downworlder Rep meeting at Meliorn’s request. Meet at the Dumort in an hour, and don’t tell the Shadowhunters. Or Simon, because you know he’ll tell them if you do._ **

Maia bites down on her lip as she frowns. After all her talk and worry over the Shadowhunters keeping things from them, Meliorn wants some sort of secret meeting of the Downworlder Cabinet off the books? She doesn’t like it but she also doesn’t like the idea of being the only one of them to break the tentative trust that’s been forming for the past few months now, either. So for the next hour she feels pretty guilty about it but manages to keep the request to herself, showing up right on time to the Dumort. 

“Great, you’re the last one. Hurry up so we can get this over with - the rest of the clan gets so anxious when the lot of you are around,” Lily says, ushering her in. 

“Get  _ what _ over with, exactly?” Maia questions, but Lily dismisses her with a wave of her hand. 

“I mean I know know for sure but it has to be about Clary, right?” Lily points out, brow slightly furrowed. It’s the only thing that happened today to warrant an ‘emergency meeting’, though Maia can’t imagine what the emergency could be or why they’re keeping this from the Shadowhunters when everything was fine when Simon left her a few hours ago.

She supposes she’s about to find out soon enough. 

Lily brings her into a room where two Seelie knights wait by the door. In the middle of the room, at a table long enough to fit about 20 people, only Lorenzo and Meliorn sit. Lily joins them and Maia places herself next to her, across from Lorenzo. Meliorn doesn’t miss a beat in speaking the moment she settles into her seat. 

“Thank you all for meeting me here on such short notice. I thought in light of today’s revelation - which I believe Simon Lewis came to each of us regarding - we could all benefit from a discussion on what our next course of action should be.” 

“What are you talking about?” Maia asks. 

“We all know what the Fairchild girl is capable of when she’s aware of what she’s doing. But left on her own while she’s regaining potentially traumatizing memories? The girl is little more than a ticking time bomb, and I for one am not going to sit idly back and let the Clave ‘ _ handle’ _ things until they’re out of their control.” Meliorn’s voice is a calm cadence that lends the words behind the tone extra credibility. After all, when presented so simply it seems the most rational, the most reasonable response. 

Maia chances a quick glance across the table at Lorenzo, but his face remains impressively impassive so far while she knows her own betrays her initial discomfort with this entire discussion. 

“Do you really think we have to step in? She barely remembers anything, she probably won’t even end up near any of you, not when her strongest memories are of the Shadowhunters. And from what I was told, she knows that they’re friends. She trusts them already, even without really remembering them. That hardly sounds like a time bomb to me,” Maia points out. 

“I wish we all shared your unwavering trust in the Nephilim, Miss Roberts,” Meliorn sighs. “As it stands, I’ve witnessed too many years of poor communication, deliberate or otherwise, leading to the deaths of Downworlders to trust that they’ll do what’s necessary if one of their own is a true threat.” 

The sad fact of the matter is that Meliorn could be referencing any number of times something like that happened in recent years, more than enough to prove his point. She wants to point out that Isabelle isn’t like that but knows it’s happened during Alec’s time as head, too, leaving that argument suspect at best. 

“I’ve witnessed those years as well,” Lorenzo starts. For a moment Maia fears he’s turning his back on them and siding with Meliorn, which will leave her hopelessly on her own, until he continues. “But I’ve also been present to witness the strides the Lightwoods have taken the past year in how threats to the Shadow World are handled. Miss Roberts has a point.” 

Maia eases back in her chair from where she sat leaning forward, poised to defend herself again before Lorenzo stepped in. 

“How quick you are to forgive. That’s very kind of you, Mr. Rey. I don’t suppose that has anything to do with your recent dalliances with a certain Nephilim of your own, now would it?” Meliorn questions, though they can all hear the words for the accusation they are. 

“Not at all. My duty is to my people,” Lorenzo replies icily. 

“And Miss Roberts? Were you going to tell the rest of us that Clary Fray already visited your establishment yesterday, or were you hoping to keep that between yourself and the Nephilim as well?” Meliorn turns his accusations on her now, and Maia tenses. 

“I--” 

“ _ Woah _ ,” Lily chimes in, cutting off whatever reply Maia was about to give. “I might not be as close to all of this as you lot are, but that doesn’t give me any less of a say. And right now, I say we all take a step  _ waaaaay _ back. The whole point of this is to look out for each other, right? Not come at each other’s throats with petty personal insults.” 

This seems to settle everyone for a moment, and Maia is grateful for the vampire girl who looks like a rebellious teen standing with blue streaks in her hair and hands on her hips, despite the fact that Maia knows Lily is a little over a hundred years old. 

“As the one called to remove Miss Fray from the Institute, I can attest that she holds no hostility towards the Nephilim or us. She’s just a confused young woman who doesn’t understand why any of this is happening. She doesn’t truly remember anything. And even if she did, she has no stele, no angelic weapons. She could remember every Rune in the Grey Book and still be unable to use a single one. She’s harmless.” 

“I don’t think having her wander into the Dumort would be ‘harmless’,” Lily says, shooting Maia a quick apologetic look. Maia doesn’t blame her, it’s a fair concern, especially for the Night Children. 

“I’ll admit, the fact that she keeps showing up places isn’t ideal, but Lorenzo is right, she isn’t doing anything. She’s just… sort of there. She doesn’t even know why. Can’t we just put up some wards she can’t get through or something?” 

“Considering Clarissa Fray can create new runes, it isn’t the ones in the Grey Book I’m worried about,” Meliorn clarifies. “I’m simply saying I don’t believe we can trust the Nephilim to remain an impartial voice in this particular matter.” 

Maia sighs. “So what are you suggesting?” 

“That we watch Clarissa Fray ourselves. That we share anything we hear, from the faintest rumors to first hand experiences, within this group  _ first _ . What if Clarissa had left your diner and gone straight to the Dumort? You could’ve warned Lily. You could’ve warned  _ any _ of us. And that was already significantly after the Nephilim realized what was happening. We cannot afford to allow these delays in the future.” 

After the harshness of Meliorn’s tone fades Maia has to admit she can see his point. She could have warned the others, the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. She was lucky that Clary went to the Institute after but what if she hadn’t? She also has to wonder if Jace would’ve told her anything if Clary hadn’t shown up at her diner. The thought makes her uncomfortable. 

“You’re right,” she says finally, the admission weighing heavily on her. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. I think I can agree to that much for now.” 

“Agreed,” Lorenzo says. 

“Same,” Lily agrees. 

“After some monitoring of our own we can reconvene to see where things stand, and if further action is needed. I suppose for now this agreement will be sufficient.” With that Meliorn stands, and exits the room without another word, flanked on either side by his guards. 

“Well that was pleasant,” Lily mutters. 

“Better than I expected, if I’m behind honest,” Lorenzo replies. 

“Are you two as worried as Meliorn that the Shadowhunters would really keep things from us about this?” Maia asks. 

Lily shrugs. “I dunno. I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Maia says, frowning as she turns to leave with Lorenzo close behind. Once they’re far enough away from the building Maia turns to Lorenzo to ask the question she’s wondered this entire time. 

“What are you going to do about Underhill?” 

Lorenzo shows the most emotion since she first saw him tonight at that question, looking conflicted. “You’re asking if I’ll tell the others something he may confess to me in secrecy? Or if I’d ask him for information to share with the Cabinet?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” She has the same concerns but with Simon and the others - they’re her friends. They trust her with things, or at least she likes to think they do. With this whole ‘Downworlder loyalty first’ pact they have going she doesn’t want to end up in a positive where something told to her in confidence is now up to her to pass along to Meliorn and the others. 

Lorenzo finally answers her after a very long pause of consideration. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” 

A moment later he’s gone, stepping through a portal and out of sight, leaving Maia to her thoughts the rest of the walk home. 


	21. Part Twenty-One: Underhill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew is faced with a few surprising questions from Lydia, some judgement calls with Isabelle, and an unfortunate reminder that sometimes what's best for one person isn't always best for another.

Andrew was right in assuming the brief reprise he gets when he returns from leaving Clary with Lorenzo, Magnus, and Alec is the last he’s going to get for quite some time. He can feel the tension in the Institute the moment Lydia’s presence is made public knowledge. It starts off with a few rumors, people who aren’t aware of what’s going on with Clary only knowing that Lydia Branwell is at the New York Institute, and that Lydia Branwell is still an envoy to the Clave. It’s certainly a bad look without perspective. 

However, it’s a  _ worse _ look  _ with _ the full story. Isabelle makes the announcement sometime after lunch, calling everyone together to update them on the fact that Clary Fray turned up outside of the Institute the night before but was swiftly removed thanks to Andrew’s diligent attention to the security cameras. 

Unwanted eyes turn to him and he wishes she left him out of it, but knows that wouldn’t be a good look for transparency while Lydia’s around. It isn’t like it’s a secret, his name is on the report, too, but he just hates the attention. 

Doing his best not to pay them any mind, Andrew keeps his eyes planted firmly on Isabelle as she continues her debriefing- that Clary doesn’t remember anything, but that clearly some things are starting to come back to her, so any sightings of her near the Institute, or the Dumort, or anywhere significant to the Shadow World are to be reported immediately. 

“And who are we supposed to report them  _ to _ ?” Says a voice from the back, the words far from an innocent inquiry and clearly meant to stir trouble. Andrew tenses, but Isabelle never loses her cool as she glances to her left at Lydia with a polite, charming smile.

“Anything relevant to Clary Fray can be reported to either myself, or to Miss Branwell. You are all to cooperate  _ fully  _ during her stay here, and assist in anything she may ask if you should you find it within your means. Miss Branwell has unrestricted access to whatever she needs here. Understood?”

A chorus of ‘understood’ echoes in the room from each and every Shadowhunter present, knowing the question isn’t rhetorical.  

The look of slight surprise on Lydia’s face as she stands next to Isabelle says it all: she didn’t come here and demand those allowances, but Isabelle offers them up before it can be ordered of her. That’s a bold gamble to take, leaving Lydia entirely unchecked during her investigation, but it’s one hell of a power play. 

_ Oh shit _ , Andrew realizes with a small smirk, _ Lightwood means business _ . 

Lydia bristles for just a moment before that confident smile is plastered back across her face. 

“Thank you, Isabelle. I appreciate the warm welcome, and I promise not to get in the way of any daily operations. Just go about your jobs as if I’m not even here.” 

Once they’re dismissed from the announcement everyone scatters as quickly as possible. There’s a challenge behind Isabelle and Lydia’s eyes, a sharpness to their words no matter how professional, that lets the Institute know that this is far from a friendly social call. 

Andrew wishes he could follow Lydia’s advice and go back to work as if she isn’t even there, but unfortunately he hears his name called just as he’s reaching the elevators. 

“Mr. Underhill?” 

He freezes, glad he’s facing away from her so that she can’t see the instinctive grimace that crosses his features before he controls it into a neutral smile. Andrew turns to face her while dropping his hand from where it was about to press down on the call button. 

“Miss Branwell, how nice to see you again,” he says. “Did Isabelle send you over to grab the spare keys to the guest room?” He asks hopefully, knowing full well that he isn’t going to be that lucky. 

“Ah, no, though I suppose I will want those at some point too,” Lydia says. “I was actually going to ask if you could go over some of the security tapes with me when you have a moment. I know you’re in high demand around here, so if you’re not free now we can meet at your earliest convenience.” 

Andrew considers this for a moment before shrugging. He doesn’t have anything pressing to attend to, nothing he can’t push off until later. And the sooner he gets this over with the sooner he hopefully won’t have to worry about his role in all of this. He’s, more or less, the eyes of the Institute these days. So obviously he’s expected to see, and know, everything. He certainly knows more than he wants to most of the time. 

“Sure, now works. Follow me,” he says, turning back towards the elevator and pressing the button. 

The ride to the surveillance room isn’t a long one but it’s silent between the two of them. They worked together a little bit in the short period of time Lydia took over the Institute last year, and during her time presiding over Isabelle’s trial. Obviously neither of those two things put her in his good graces back then, though he did feel bad for her after the whole dramatically failed wedding thing… not that anyone brings that up anymore, least of all to Lydia herself. 

Instead he says, “Do you think you’ll be staying with us long?” 

“Why,” Lydia counters. “Eager to get rid of me already?” 

He thinks he can sense something that almost sounds like resignation in her tone despite the smile she tries to keep present. 

“Not at all,” Andrew replies. “It isn’t often we get visitors for more than a few hours anymore,” he admits. “Your visit is definitely bringing some excitement, which is always a nice change of pace.” 

“The constant danger of demon hunting not exciting enough for you?” Lydia challenges, laughing. This time her tone matches her smile a little more; it’s lighter, a little more relaxed as the elevator doors open and they walk down an otherwise empty hallway. Since it isn’t a room used by many within the Institute the surveillance room is kept mostly away from the busier areas. 

“And you were the one who found Clary when she turned up here, aren’t you? Seems like you’re already getting most of the recent excitement.” 

Andrew hums in confirmation but doesn’t comment. 

They enter the room and he switches on a few monitors, just so she can get a look at the cameras he has set up around the Institute, inside and out, while he pulls up what she wants to see. 

“Here,” he says, finding the footage easily since he’d already pulled it for Isabelle earlier. Lydia comes up behind him and they both watch as Clary approaches the Institute. He can hear  movement behind him as Lydia shifts, bringing a hand up to grip the back of his chair at the reaction Clary has the closer she gets to the building. And then the portal, Lorenzo’s arrival, and Andrew’s own cameo, ending with a quick phone call before he and Lorenzo take Clary through a portal and off camera. 

“Can you rewind that?” Lydia asks, and Andrew does - not just once, but three times for her. 

“Who did you call?” She asks the second time through when he pulls out his phone. 

“Isabelle,” he says. “There aren’t exactly standard protocols to follow for this sort of thing.” 

“And where did she tell you to take Clary?” 

“Magnus’ loft,” he says, and Lydia nods again. He’s keeping his answers as short and to the point as possible, getting the feeling that this is more of an interrogation than a casual conversation over what happened. 

“And then what?” 

This is the part he expects the most questions about, but thankfully he has an easy out of his own to avoid accidentally saying too much, or the wrong thing. 

“I don’t know. Once we got her somewhere safe to lay down I had to come back here - I was still on duty, I had to finish my shift out, so Lorenzo portalled me back while Clary was still unconscious.” 

“And Lorenzo showed up to help because you called him,” it isn’t a question, and he thinks he can pick apart the slightest hint of amusement in her tone when she adds, “That was a pretty immediate response. Does he often react so quickly to assist the Shadowhunters here at the Institute, or…” Lydia trails off but the implication behind her words is clear whether she finishes the thought out loud or not. 

“He would’ve done the same for anyone,” Andrew insists, knowing full well that’s a lie.  “He’s the High Warlock, after all. It’s kind of his job.” Of course Lorenzo would help if asked but he highly doubts Lorenzo would’ve dropped everything with no explanation the way he had for Andrew in that moment. 

“I see. Well, I hope he’s that eager when I arrange a meeting with him,” Lydia says, and Andrew curses mentally. Of course she’d go to him to fill in the blanks from after Andrew left to return to work. Fuck. 

Lydia continues without waiting for a response, which is good, because Andrew doesn’t have one to give her. “She looks like she’s in considerable pain here,” Lydia says, pausing the tape at the moment Clary doubles over clutching at her head. 

“She was, according to Lorenzo. I only saw it on the camera, though.” And that much is true enough. It’s safe for him to not say anything more on the subject - he shouldn’t know anything else, after all, and what he does know is pure speculation.  _ All _ of this is pure speculation - not a single one of them really have any clue what’s going on with Clary, not Alec or Isabelle or the Clave or even Clary herself, from what he’s been told. So the last thing he wants to do is spread guesses and hearsay. 

Lydia seems to accept that answer at face value because she doesn’t ask him any more questions about it. In fact, there’s a long silence and Andrew starts to think for a hopeful second that he’s in the clear, when-- 

“Do you have other surveillance of Clary?” Lydia asks, catching him off guard. 

“What?” 

“Other tapes, from around the city? I know the cameras here can tap into half the city. Do we know where else she’s been, who else she’s spoken to? If she remembered The Institute then maybe she remembers more.” 

“I don’t have any I know about to pull up, but I can see what I can find and save them for you. I checked in on her this morning but she was just going to an art class, nothing worth noting.” He hopes that his voice is steadier than he feels. 

“I’d appreciate that.” 

When it looks like Lydia is just going to stand there, waiting, Andrew clarifies, “...it’ll take some time, though. Might take a few days to get anything worth noting, even if I pull a few people in to help. That’s a lot of city to cover, after all.” 

“Oh, of course. I suppose I’ve taken enough of your time today anyway, Underhill. Thank you, and let me know if there are any new developments.” 

Andrew goes back to work and it isn’t until a few hours later that Isabelle comes down to the surveillance room. 

“What did you show her besides the day Clary showed up here?” 

“Nothing,” Lorenzo says. 

“Why not?” Isabelle questions. “I said full cooperation.” 

“...I thought you were just, you know, saying that!” Andrews says, a little thrown off by the declaration. “I wiped most of those tapes from when we saw Clary going to the old Jade Wolf spot, and from the art show. I didn’t think you’d want Jace or Maia implemented in any of this…”    


“ _ Underhill _ ,” Isabelle practically hisses. 

“I did it before this was, you know, an official investigation. I didn't want some nosy new recruit stumbling over it when you told me to keep it quiet. I didn't even tell Lorenzo!" Andrew points out. "Can’t we just say we were making space on the servers?” 

“And the only thing missing were the days Clary Fray decided to make her way back into the Shadow World?!” Isabelle points out, and Andrew frowns. 

“Listen, this isn’t my first rodeo. I was covering all of us. Myself included. If she found out I saw Clary on those tapes even just a day ago without reporting it, that’s on me, too.” 

Isabelle sighs. He knows she can’t argue that much. As a Shadowhunter self-preservation is just too high of a natural reaction.  

“I can get the footage back, say I only just found it looking back after Lydia’s request.  _ If  _ that’s what you really want. But make sure it is, because once they see Clary leaving Maia’s restaurant and Jace showing up immediately after, and once they realize who bought all of Clary’s paintings, Jace, Maia, and Magnus will be the next people under Lydia’s microscope.” 

He thought he was proactively protecting people he’s grown to care for and respect over the past year. And what a difference a year can make. At first Underhill wasn’t sure there was a world he’d ever get along with Jace Herondale, but now here he is, looking out for Herondale and doing what needed to be done to protect Clary. 

Or at least, what he thought needed to be done. He’s a little surprised with how easily he came to the decision to hide the footage initially only to have it brought up as a matter of simple protocol. 

If he's learned anything in the last year of growing closer to the Lightwoods it's that sometimes what should be done isn't always the most obvious matter of protocol. So he made a judgement call. Was it wrong? 

The look on Isabelle's face tells him she's as conflicted as he is.  

"Just tell me what you decide ," she says, worrying her lower lip.  

"Oh no you don't, " Andrew says.  "This isn't my call."

"It was your call when you deleted that footage in the first place," Isabelle points out without missing a beat. 

"Ouch." Andrew sighs. "If you want my  _ opinion _ , I don't like that they sent an envoy instead of just asking for updates, or letting us run this ourselves. If all you told them is that she showed up her here and Lorenzo took her away then let her go, it might be best if they think that’s where this started so they don’t go digging too far back. Maia and Jace won't say anything, will they?" 

Isabelle considers this for a moment before shaking her head. " I don't think so, especially not if I ask them not to, but…" she looks suddenly uncomfortable.  "Do you think Lorenzo will?” 

“You already put everything he was there for in the report, I don’t think he’d go out of his way to…” Andrew starts, but his words trail off at the peculiar look which crosses Isabelle’s features as he speaks. “You didn’t put everything he did in the report, did you?” Isabelle’s silence is all the answer he needs. “What happened after I left?” 

“Do you actually want to know? Or do you want to keep your plausible deniability for when you talk to Lydia again?” 

It’s a decision that’s more difficult to make than Andrew’s proud of, so he stalls. “Will knowing affect my ability to protect the Institute?”  

Isabelle doesn’t answer right away. “No,” she decides. “It shouldn’t matter to anything regarding the Institute.” 

“Then don’t tell me.” Andrew isn’t certain that’s the right decision, but it’s the safest one he has for now. He can always find out later, but once he knows he can’t take that back. “Maybe I’ll ask later, or maybe Lorenzo will tell me, but for now… if I don’t have to know, perhaps it’s best I don’t.” 

He’s more than a little afraid that Isabelle isn’t going to like that answer even though she’s the one who gave him the option. Her face is unreadable but then she nods with the slightest flicker of a smile. 

“I don’t blame you,” she admits. “Thank you for everything you’ve done so far. And as far as the other footage of Clary from around the city… you said you got rid of it. It isn’t traceable?” 

Andrew shakes his head ‘no’. 

“Then no one needs to know we were ever watching it before. Start ‘looking’ around the Dumort, or the Seelie entrances, and hopefully Lydia will get tired and leave before you reach anything worth reporting.” 

Andrew nods. “Understood.” 

Isabelle hesitates as if she might say something else, but changes her mind and turns to leave instead. 

Andrew’s almost at the end of his day when he gets a call from Lorenzo inviting him over for dinner, saying something about an abundance of stew, and agrees. 

It isn’t until he’s texting Lorenzo that he’s done for the day and waiting for the portal to open that he realizes he’s actually a little nervous. This is the first time he’s seeing Lorenzo since he took care of Clary for him, at his request. What else did Andrew inadvertently get him wrapped up in, he has to wonder after everything Isabelle said, and does he even want to know? 

“I was starting to think they might not let you leave. Is the Institute on high alert with the Clave hanging about?” Lorenzo asks conversationally, stirring a pot on the stove. Normally he’d use magic for something as simple as reheating food, which strikes Andrew as peculiar, but Lorenzo is speaking again before he can dwell too long on it. “I hope you don’t mind leftovers.” 

“It’s just an envoy,” Andrew clarifies, not that it makes things that much better. “And of course not. That smells amazing.” 

“Isabelle said it was good, but then Simon told me I couldn’t trust her tastebuds so… the verdict is still out I suppose.” 

“...Isabelle and Simon were here?” Andrew asks, thrown off by the casual way that information is mentioned. 

“Yes, for the-” Lorenzo starts, but stops himself as he finally looks up and puts all of his attention on Andrew. “-they didn’t tell you what happened after you left?”

Andrew shakes his head. “No. She was going to, but Lydia was asking me all sorts of questions and I figured it was best for everyone if I just didn’t know.” 

Lorenzo’s grip tightens slightly on the wooden spoon he’s holding, his shoulders tensing. “I see,” He says. 

"But if you want to talk about it-" 

"No, no I wouldn't want to put you in a compromising position." Lorenzo turns his gaze back to the stove. 

"I really don't mind. It's my fault you got involved at all-" 

"It's fine," Lorenzo says, but the tone Lorenzo says it in leaves Andrew with the distinct impression that isn't fine at all.  “I’ve had more than enough Shadowhunter business for one day, anyway.” 

Andrew knows better than to press a third time, so he reluctantly drops the topic for now. He decides not to point out that, as a Shadowhunter, that’s pretty much  _ all _ he has to talk about, but he’ll manage for a night.  

"Okay," Andrew agrees instead. They so pointedly avoid any talk of work or Clary that Andrew almost forgets to warn his boyfriend about Lydia's desire to meet with him until after dinner. 

"Oh! I know we said no Shadowhunter talk tonight, but I did want to give you a heads up that Lydia might be reaching out to you about… well, she only knows what Izzy put in the report. But she mentioned wanting to talk to you soon.” Andrew says as he gathers the dishes to put them in the sink. He knows he doesn’t have to, that Lorenzo can clean all of this up with a wave of his hand, but instead the warlock simply watches him do this little bit the ‘old fashioned’ way he’s so used to out of habit. Normally Lorenzo argues with him over it but today Lorenzo hands his plate over without comment. 

“And I suppose there’s a script I’m meant to follow in what I tell her?” Lorenzo sighs, sounding suddenly tired, but Andrew only shakes his head. 

“No. At least, none that I know of. I haven’t told her about Maia or Jace or anything other than the night she showed up at the Institute, but I have no idea what else she knows from other sources. Whatever you tell her is up to you.” 

Andrew knows there’s a lot of loose ends in all of this. Too many people know things that the Clave doesn’t, and it’s too late to go back and make them public knowledge now without getting a  _ lot _ of people in trouble.

The look Lorenzo levels him with is a clear sign that whatever it is Lorenzo did that ended up with Isabelle and Simon and who knows who else here in his home, it’s big. Big enough that Lorenzo actually looks  _ worried _ for a moment over the idea of speaking freely on it. 

“I appreciate the warning,” Lorenzo says finally. Andrew waits for any elaboration but receives none - there’s nothing but silence stretching out as Lorenzo gets lost in his thoughts for a few moments. 

“Lorenzo, I don’t know what you did, but I don’t want you getting yourself into any trouble because of me,” Andrew says, despite promising himself he wouldn’t bring it back up tonight. 

Lorenzo looks over at him in surprise which slowly shifts to a fond smile. “I know you don’t, dear.” He glances at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting late. I should turn in, it’s been a long day.” Lorenzo walks towards the wall and flips the light switch in the dining area off.  

It’s only then that Andrew processes the little things throughout their dinner that all click together with one final moment of revelation: Lorenzo isn’t just tired, he’s  _ drained _ . He hasn’t used magic once since the portal to bring Andrew over from the Institute. 

“Hey,” Andrew starts softly, reaching a hand out to rest on Lorenzo’s shoulder as he turns away from him. “Are you okay?” 

“Of course I am. I just need a decent rest and I’ll be good as new,” Lorenzo says. “No need to worry.”    
  
But Andrew is worried, because Lorenzo guards his magic closely and never allows his reserves to get low enough to be a danger. Whatever he’d done to weaken himself this much… whatever Lorenzo isn’t telling Andrew about… the previous concern Andrew felt only compounds with the idea that this is even indirectly his fault. 

“And I have just enough to portal you back to the Institute, so-” 

Andrew cuts Lorenzo off with a shake of his head. “Absolutely not. I’ll take a cab.” 

“Andrew, don’t be ridiculous.” 

Andrew stubbornly stands his ground. “What’s ridiculous is that it took me so long to realize. I should’ve seen it sooner…” 

“...at least spend the night, then. And I can portal you back in the morning?” Lorenzo amends his offer. 

“Only if you let me draw us both a nice, relaxing bath before bed. I think we could both use it right now.” Andrew watches as the ultimatum draws a fond exasperation coupled with an overly dramatic eye-roll from Lorenzo. 

“Alright,” Lorenzo finally agrees, and Andrew smiles, determined to take care of his boyfriend as best he can with what little he has to work with. 

Andrew isn’t sure which of them Lorenzo is trying to protect more by remaining so stubbornly tight-lipped over what happened, but what he does know is that he isn’t about to let it drive a wedge between them if he can help it. 

And whatever Lorenzo did that left him so out of sorts today, well, it better had been worth it. 


	22. Part Twenty-Two: Lorenzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorenzo seeks advice from Magnus, and faces a few questions (which feel a lot more like accusations) from Lydia.

Lorenzo knows he has no right to be frustrated with Andrew. Andrew isn’t who he’s mad at. In truth, he isn’t mad  _ at _ anyone, merely frustrated with the situation as a whole.   
  
When he took over for Magnus as the High Warlock of Brooklyn it was with the promise, both to himself and his people, that he would never compromise them for the sake of the Shadowhunters the way that Magnus so often had - that there would be no  _ greater good _ , only what is good for the Warlocks. 

It should’ve been easy. He had it all planned out… except he didn’t plan for one Andrew Underhill to come into his life and upturn every last priority he never expected to waver on. 

Up until now it hadn’t mattered. There are no wars, no battles to fight, no sides to choose. He might do the occasional extra favor or two for the Institute but it’s never been anything quite like the last day and a half. In fact, it’s as if the world is trying to make up for an entire year of relative calm by shoving as much chaos into his life as possible all at once. 

The meeting with the Downworld Representatives already had him on edge when Andrew arrived. He thought his boyfriend’s presence might ease the tensions and concerns he felt, but instead Andrew’s desire to detach himself from the chaos, rather than share in it, rubs Lorenzo the wrong way immediately. Rather than accept Andrew’s offer to talk it out he shuts down and brushes it off instead. 

He regrets it more with every bit of forced small-talk but he refuses to cave now, stubborn as ever. Honestly, it’s a miracle that Andrew puts up with him as long as he does, even to the point of insisting to stay. In fact, his Shadowhunter is sleeping peacefully beside him as Lorenzo gingerly slips out from under Andrew’s arm and down the hall, out onto the cool, crisp air of  balcony. 

He considers his next action for a few moments before dialing a number on his phone and bringing it up to his ear, only a little surprised to find the voice on the other end actually answering at this hour. 

“Lorenzo? Is everything alright?”    


“Hello, Magnus,” Lorenzo says. “Yes… and no. I need your honest opinion on something. Objectively, from one High Warlock to another.” 

He can hear a considering hum on the other end of the line. “Okay. What is it?” 

Lorenzo considers his words carefully. “I know progress is being made in Alicante, but… how much do you truly trust the Clave and the Council?” 

“More than I did a year ago,” Magnus responds. 

“They’re looking into everything with Clarissa, and Andrew told me that Lydia Branwell is going to ask to speak with me regarding my involvement. I must say, I don’t particuarly enjoy being in this position.” 

Lorenzo’s annoyance only increases at the huff of laughter from Magnus. “No, I can imagine not,” Magnus says. “I remember exactly how you reacted to me… how did you put it?  _ ‘Abandoning our people to protect those undeserving Nephilim’? _ ” 

“Yes, well. Mistakes were made,” Lorenzo admits, knowing full well that Magnus no longer holds that against him the way he once did, no matter how often he enjoys bringing it back up now that Lorenzo is dating a Shadowhunter. “And I’d like to not make so many this time around. I know I volunteered to assist in the ceremony knowing full well that it was to be kept off the record. But with Lydia looking into things that day, she knows I took Clary away to your apartment. I don’t want to drag your name into it, but given how the night ended…” Lorenzo’s words trail off, and he waits for Magnus to realize what he means. 

When Magnus does, he curses. 

“I portaled her home,” Magnus realizes. Lorenzo knows they barely had the energy for that after the memory demon, and Magnus’ tone is enough to confirm his suspicions that he hadn’t used a glamour in the moment. It hardly seemed to matter at the time, but now that people were looking… 

“I could… Andrew is the one checking the tapes for her. I could see what he’d be willing to… overlook?” Even as he suggests it, the words feel wrong, but what options do they have? This isn’t their problem - they did the Nephilim a  _ favor _ , and now here they are, one step away from being interrogated for it. 

“No,” Magnus says with a resigned sigh. “You were in my Loft, after all, it isn’t out of the realm of possibility that I met you there after Isabelle’s call and portalled Clary back after she woke up. You know, so she’d wake up to a familiar face. Hardly worth noting with everything else going on at the time.” 

Lorenzo nods to himself even though Magnus can’t see it. “Thank you for talking this through. Normally I would’ve picked Andrew’s brain over something like this, but he doesn’t even know about the memory demon so...”

“You didn’t tell him?” Magnus questions, surprised. 

“I was going to, of course. But he wanted to know as little as possible that might trip him up while Lydia’s around. I hardly blame him. I’m barely in-the-know about these things and it’s already causing problems with the Downworlders.” 

“...what sort of problems?” Magnus asks immediately, and Lorenzo silently curses himself for saying that much. 

“Nothing serious. The Seelies don’t trust the Nephilim, which is nothing new. But with the strange circumstances surrounding Clarissa’s memories being taken, and now returning again out of nowhere, they’re on edge. Nothing I’d worry about quite yet,” Lorenzo backtracks, not only because Magnus has enough to worry about on his own plate, but because he knows how Meliorn and Lily feel about Magnus’ biases towards the Nephilim, the same ones they occasionally imply that he shares now as well. The last thing Lorenzo needs is for them to think he’s conspiring with Magnus over them. 

“If you say so,” Magnus says, and seems willing to drop the subject for now, much to Lorenzo’s relief. 

“I do,” Lorenzo assures him. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I must slip back inside before I’m missed.” 

“Let me know if anything changes,” Magnus says. “And thank you again for helping with Clary. I hope you know how much everyone involved appreciates it. All of it.” 

Lorenzo knows he’s talking about more than just the summoning itself, and while it should make him uncomfortable to know he’s putting himself in a potentially compromising position to keep a secret for Magnus and the Shadowhunters, all he feels is a sense of strange gratification. He hopes that’s a sign that he’s making the right call. 

Lorenzo almost manages to slip back into bed unnoticed until he hears the mumbled words beside him as Andrew shifts onto his side. 

“You’re... cold...” Andrew mutters, still half-asleep, and Lorenzo realizes he must be cool from the chilly night air he just came back inside from.  

“Well then, you’d better warm me back up.” Lorenzo allows Andrew to wrap around him under the covers, and though Andrew drifts back off in mere seconds, it’s much longer before Lorenzo’s mind calms enough to join him in sleep.

\---

As promised, Lorenzo is feeling much better the next morning and, after sharing an impressive breakfast spread, sends Andrew off to work via portal. He already cancelled any business he had lined up for the day to properly replenish his magic before diving back in to work, so he’s free when he gets the call from Lydia he’s been expecting all day, asking if he can meet with her. So much of him wants to say no, that his schedule is simply too full right now, but he suspects that might create more problems than it’d solve. So instead he bites his tongue and agrees to a meeting later that day. 

Andrew is out on a patrol when Lorenzo arrives so he wastes no time in finding Lydia to get this over with. 

“Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice, Mr. Rey. I know you’re a busy man so I won’t take up too much of your time,” Lydia says, ushering them into Isabelle’s office, which they’re borrowing for their little chat. 

“It’s no trouble at all. What may I assist you with?” 

“I’m just talking to everyone involved in Clary’s sudden appearance at the Institute and the events that followed. You were the one Underhill called to take Clary away, right?” 

“That is correct. I arrived, Clary was clearly distressed and in pain, so I rendered her temporarily unconscious and portalled her away from the Institute.” He wonders how many times Lydia’s already heard this story, and how many more it will take for her to believe that’s all there is to it. “We took her to Magnus’ loft, somewhere close and familiar, until she woke back up. When she didn’t actually know anything and asked to go home, we took her home.” 

“...this isn’t an interrogation,” Lydia says, a frown on her face over his precise breakdown. 

“Isn’t it?” Lorenzo counters, glancing around the room. He’s alone in the Head of the Institute’s office with an envoy from the Clave, there aren’t many other ways to look at this. 

“I’m just trying to get the full picture. We’re just talking… may I call you Lorenzo?” 

“I think Mr. Rey would be fine for now,” Lorenzo says, wondering if he’s being unnecessarily on edge over all of this. 

Lydia sighs. “Have it your way, Mr. Rey. Why did you let her go? Surely you’re aware that a situation as peculiar as this might have consequences - she could be a danger to herself, given her reaction at the Institute, or to others?” 

Lorenzo narrows his eyes. “We let her go because she asked to leave. So far the girl’s done nothing wrong, and I’m not in the business of unlawfully detaining innocent people who wish to go home.” That much is true. Though the words came from Magnus when Clary asked if she was a prisoner there, Lorenzo agreed with the call no matter what Meliorn or the Clave may believe.

Lydia nods. She doesn’t ask him to clarify who ‘we’ is. He realizes then that she isn’t taking any notes down, wondering if she’s going to after he leaves, or if she’s perhaps recording their conversation. He wishes he could simply trust her that this is just a talk, but… 

Their conversation is cut short by a knock at the door, which is slowly opened by a young, nervous-looking Shadowhunter Lorenzo recognizes as someone he’s seen interacting with Andrew on multiple occasions in the past. 

“Yes, Whitdale?” Lydia prompts when he doesn’t immediately speak. 

“I just, uh, sorry to interrupt. But you said to let you know if we see anything, and-” 

“What is it, Whitdale?” Lydia asks again, leaning forward this time, clearly curious. 

“It’s Clary Fray, Miss Branwell. She’s with the Daylighter, Simon Lewis.” 

Lorenzo frowns. 

Lydia, on the other hand, suddenly looks ten times more interested than she’d been for any of her conversation with him. In fact, she’s already standing up from the desk to make her way towards the door. 

“Sorry, Lor-- Mr. Rey. Perhaps we can pick this up another time?” Lydia says, not sounding sorry at all. 

“Of course,” he agrees simply, not wasting any time in leaving the Institute grounds before she can change her mind. 

As much as he wanted this visit cut short, this isn’t quite how he wanted it to happen. At least now anything he hasn’t said he can blame on not having the chance to, rather than intentionally keeping the information from Lydia. 

He only hopes whatever she discovers instead isn’t worse. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's update is a little shorter than normal, but I'm in L O N D O N! So this and next week's updates will be a bit more brief just so I can keep things moving while I'm gone for 2 Mondays. <3 <3


	23. Part Twenty-Three: Simon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon gets a call from Clary, but their time together doesn't go according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jetlag got the best of me and I fell asleep before uploading this last night, sorry!!

Simon thinks that his trip to spread the word about the whole ‘Clary Situation’ to the Downworld Leaders on behalf of Isabelle and the Institute goes pretty well. Meliorn is, well, Meliorn, but that’s fine. Lily is pleasant enough, with her usual teasing edge that he’s grown pretty used to this past year. In fact, it always feels a little like Clary’s friendly, sister-like teasing, which helps because despite his tendency to gravitate towards the Shadowhunters even without Clary being among them, well, he  _ is _ still a vampire and he  _ does _ still need that support system on his side. He doesn’t need to speak with Lorenzo, he got filled in on his own after everything with Clary at the Institute and the memory demon, and of course he’ll use any excuse to visit Maia who he doesn’t seen half as much as he wishes he did these days.

It’s a busy day, which is good, because the moment he’s back at his apartment at the end of it all he can think about is how much he wishes he could go back to the Institute and hang out for a while. He knows why he can’t. He gets it, really he does. But it still sucks. Having Isabelle and Jace to distract him was the only thing keeping him from thinking about Clary, and now he’s stuck thinking about how he doesn’t have  _ any  _ of them right now. 

He’s tempted to call his sister and check in on things in Florida, but decides against it. Not while he’s being all mopey, since those conversations always have their own hints of sadness to them, no matter how nice it is to hear his sister’s voice after a while. 

Instead Simon turns to the tried-and-true world of sci-fi movies, popping in one of the original Star Wars dvds he keeps around when he needs background noise, alternating between listening to it and plucking away at a few new ideas on his guitar. And then he switches to sketching some stuff for a new graphic novel idea he has… and then he starts playing a video game instead. 

He can’t focus on any one thing because none of them are what he really  _ wants _ to be doing, and he can’t seem to get invested in any of it. 

He’s about to just give up and see if he can swing by the Institute anyway when his phone starts to ring. The name on the screen is the last he expects to see, and it rings three more times before he breaks himself out of his shock to swipe the call open. 

“Clary?” he says, his tone a failed attempt at casual even though he’s afraid that he’ll spook her by sounding as excited as he feels just then. 

“Hey Simon,” Clary says. It’s all she says at first and a silence hangs over the line after, one that Simon isn’t quite sure how to fill. Still, talking is one of his strong suits, and nervous rambling a niche he’s pretty well known for, so he dives right in anyway. 

“How are you feeling? I know you seemed fine when you left last night, but, well, I guess fine is pretty relative right now.” 

“I’m alright,” Clary says before lapsing back into silence. “Sorry. I know I’m the one who called you, but I just-- I wanted to hear your voice again. And say sorry for running out the way I did.” 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. You don’t have to apologize, I totally get it. It’s a lot, everything you’re sort of remembering, and then to find out you had this, like, whole part of your childhood that you didn’t even remember even though it was just us being silly in coffee shops and stuff. I’m sure all that needs some time to process.” 

“Yeah, it does. And I am still letting it all sink in. But I… I don’t know. I went to paint today and I just felt so overwhelmed by everything, and my first instinct wasn’t to call my roommate this time, it was to call you. So I did.” 

Simon knows he shouldn’t be happy that she feels overwhelmed, which is why it’s a very good thing that she can’t see the way he beams to himself over the knowledge that he’d the first one she wants to turn to now. 

“I’m glad you did, Clary. That’s what best friends are for.” 

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Clary says, and there’s something about the hesitance behind her words, the uncertainty in her tone, that makes Simon’s good mood plummet. He’s relieved that she doesn’t seem to totally hate him for the role he played in taking her memories, but that doesn’t make them best friends again overnight. 

“Listen, can we meet up, and talk? Are you busy?” Clary asks. 

“I think I can pencil you in,” Simon says, glancing around his apartment at the chaos of discarded distraction attempts. “Should I come to you?” He suggests hopefully, not wanting to have to try and clean up his entire life in the next 10 minutes. 

“How about we meet at Java Jones?” Clary suggests, which works just as well. 

“Perfect. I’ll meet you there.” 

They hang up and Simon makes sure he’s vaguely presentable before making his way to the familiar coffee shop, tossing his messenger bag onto his and Clary’s old usual table and ordering Clary’s drink which finish just as she makes her way in through the door. 

“Here you go, one black coffee, just the way you like it,” he says, handing it over. 

“Thanks,” she says, instinctively taking a seat at the table where Simon’s bag is without him needing to point out he saved it for them. “And thanks for meeting me with like, no notice. I just didn’t want to stay in the studio and I didn’t want to go back to my room just yet. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything...”

Simon shakes his head. “Not at all. Honestly, I’ve been bored out of my mind for the last three hours, so I should be the one thanking you,” he admits. 

“This is all just so weird. I know we’re close, and I have all these memories of us falling back into place now, but then I think about how I spent the last year not knowing you exist when we grew up together our entire lives! Tell me this isn’t weird for you, too?” Clary asks. 

“It is a little, yeah. But I’ll take weird over you not knowing I exist any day,” he admits. 

Clary bites down on her lower lip and fidgets with the edges of the plastic lid on her coffee cup. Simon can read her tells enough to know she’s upset about something, and suddenly fears that the something is him. 

“If this is too much, just tell me, okay?” 

“It isn’t that, it’s just-- I could see the way you and Isabelle and Magnus looked at me last night. There was so much expectation there, and I can’t- I hate that I can’t be whatever it is everyone expects me to be.” She sighs. “I’m trying, but the more I try the more it backfires. I’m starting to wonder if I should even be talking to you now.” 

Simon shakes his head immediately. “We don’t expect anything from you. If you don’t want to remember, that’s one thing. No one is going to make you keep trying if you just want to go back to school and look the other way.” It hurts him to even say that, but it’s true. This isn’t about them, it’s about Clary. Getting these memories back, if it’s possible at all, isn’t going to be an easy road from the looks of things. So if she changed her mind about wanting them back…

“How am I supposed to know if I want them back when I don’t know what they are?” Clary asks suddenly, and that idea stops Simon’s thoughts dead in their tracks. He thinks about the way she lost her mother, about how she almost lost Jace, about what she had to do to Valentine, and Jonathan…  

Would she be better off not remembering, even if she wants to? 

But he’s learned his lesson in making decisions for Clary, no matter how much he thinks he might have the right idea. He hopes they all have. 

“I can’t tell you that. But you don’t have to know now, either. You were right to want to leave and take some time.” 

Clary nods, looking a little relieved at that. They decide to get some fresh air, walking and talking about a little of everything - some of it about their childhood, some questions Clary has about those places she keeps being drawn to. Simon gives vague answers, wanting to help but knowing that he can’t say too much, not until someone has a better idea of exactly what’s happening with Clary’s memory and the way it’s coming back all painful and in pieces. He can’t risk saying the wrong thing, or too much, and sending her into some memory-overload coma or something. 

He’s very,  _ very _ vaguely saying something about magic and warlocks after Clary brings up Magnus when he feels eyes on him. 

That’s when Simon notices them. He isn’t sure at first, but the hint of angel blood in the air increases the closer they get. It’s such a faint distinction from normal human blood but Simon spends enough time surrounded by it to be able to pick it out of a crowd by now, a skill he never imagined would come in handy before now. 

He spins around as they walk, walking backwards to face Clary as he talks, but in reality he’s looking behind them to spot the two Shadowhunters trailing them. He sees them almost immediately - another benefit to spending so much time around the Institute, he can recognize most of the active Shadowhunters now, and two familiar faces avert their gaze in an attempt to avoid detection. 

Simon laughs, pretending Clary just said something funny, as he continues walking and spins himself back around to bring an arm around Clary’s shoulder, pulling them close enough together that he can whisper to her. 

“Don’t react, but I think we’re being tailed. It’s fine. Well, it’s probably fine. But we definitely  _ cannot _ go back to Magnus’ to look at those paintings now.” 

“Tailed? Who would be following us?” Clary moves to look behind them but Simon keeps his arm around her shoulders to keep her facing forward, using just enough of his vampire strength to keep her in place without hurting her. 

“People from the building you tried to get into yesterday,” Simon says vaguely. 

“But I haven’t done anything wrong!” Clary says, her voice rising in panic. 

Simon can tell this is going to get out of hand if he doesn’t get a handle on it ASAP. 

“You haven’t. And we’re fine. They aren’t following us to hurt us, they’re just… watching. They’re spying on us. In retrospect, I, uh, probably shouldn’t have met up with you in public like this, but it’s way too late for that now.” He has no idea if he’s the one being watched or Clary, but his money’s on Clary, not that he’s going to say that to her. 

She’s already plenty freaked out as it is. 

“Please don’t leave me alone,” she begs him, panicked but at least having enough control to keep walking forward with him instead of straining to see behind her again. 

“Of course I won’t. So if we aren’t splitting up, we just have to be horribly boring until they give up instead. Any ideas?” Simon asks. 

They’re both silent for a minute or two, trying to think of something they can do that would make the people watching them realize they aren’t going to do anything  _ worth  _ watching. 

Suddenly Clary turns to him with a smirk. “I think I have just the thing.” 

Fifteen minutes later they’re in a common area of Clary’s school, a media room set up with a television and streaming accounts for the students to use, along with sofas and beanbags to sit on. Embracing the childhood memories Clary recently got back, she puts on an anime that she and Simon used to spend countless hours watching after school and on weekends and the pair of them settle in. 

To the Shadowhunters’ credits it takes three full hours before the scent is gone and Simon tells Clary they’re in the clear again, which is much longer than he imagined any ‘normal’ person would be able to sit through Naruto. 

“What the hell was that about,” Clary demands, the show playing on in the background. 

“You know how we told you that you aren’t supposed to be remembering the things you are?” Simon asks, and waits for Clary to nod before continuing. “Well, those are the people who don’t like it the most. If they saw us together they probably thought I was telling you things, or that you remembered me from… well, that you remember me more than you do. They’re just paranoid, it’s in their nature.”

“So what, they’re going to follow me for the rest of my life now?” Clary demands. She tries to sound angry about it but Simon's heart aches at the fear in her tone. 

“Probably not,” Simon says unhelpfully.  “I’ll talk to them. Say we met up for some… project on childhood memories you’re doing, hopefully get them to chill for a while. But I promise they aren’t going to hurt you. You don’t have to worry.” 

Simon wonders if that’s a promise he can really be making, but he can’t leave Clary on edge like this. Surely if there was any actual danger or concern Isabelle would’ve warned him, right? 

“Right. I’m being stalked but I have nothing to worry about,” Clary sounds dubious. 

“You don’t. And if you are worried, just call me, and I’ll be there so fast it’ll make your head spin,” Simon promises, and that’s a promise he knows he can make. There’s nothing he wouldn’t drop to be by Clary’s side right now with everything she’s going through. 

That does seem to make her feel better, and some of the worry eases from her expression. “Okay,” she says finally. “I should be getting back anyway. It’s late and I have to finish a project before morning. Thanks for coming, even if it wasn’t quite what I planned for the night.” 

“Nothing wrong with an impromptu anime marathon,” Simon says, smiling. “It’s good to see you again, I missed this.” 

Clary smiles back. “I did, too.” She pauses, and then steps forward to wrap her arms around him in a hug he returns without hesitation.  

“We’ll figure the rest out, okay? You’re not alone, I’m just a call away.” Simon is pretty sure he’s said that about half a dozen times by now, but he’ll say it half a dozen more if that’s what it takes for Clary to believe him. 

She looks like she does this time, nodding and actually turning to go back to her room, or the studio, or wherever she’s off to for the night. Simon’s tempted to follow just to get a glimpse into this part of her life he’s missed out on for so long, but he knows better, especially after the scare they got earlier. So instead he turns and heads back to his own place, mentally preparing for the inevitable earful he’s going to get from Jace and Izzy over all of this. 

Even so, he can’t shake the smile from his face knowing it was totally worth it. 


	24. Part Twenty-Four: Isabelle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabelle does as much damage control as possible, but there are too many unanswered questions to keep Lydia at bay forever, especially when Clary keeps sending out new red flags to those observing her.

Izzy is in the training room, sparring with Jace to let out all of the carefully concealed nervousness she feels over everything going on around her right now. Lydia told her that she sent Shadowhunters out to tail Simon and Clary -  _ told her _ , not suggested or asked, but  _ told _ Isabelle that it was already done. And Izzy, needing to remain as neutral as possible here, had no way to reach out and warn Simon. The best she could do was make sure to assign two Shadowhunters she trusted to not overreact, reminding them that they’re only to observe and report back unless they feel there’s any immediate threat, which she half-expected Lydia to argue, but she didn’t. 

Thank the Angel for small favors. 

After pacing back and forth in her office for nearly thirty minutes Jace came in to suggest she come work out some of that frustration with some sparring, which she immediately agreed to. Hair pulled back and changed into a comfortable outfit of black leggings, a black tank-top, and sneakers, she’s leaving twice as many bruises on Jace as she’s taking in return. 

“I just-” she says, pausing to huff out a breath between jabs. “Don’t know- what he was -  _ thinking.”  _

“You know this probably wouldn’t have happened if he were here instead of on his own-” 

“Don’t start with me, Jace,” Izzy says, dropping the staff and taking a step back. “You know why he couldn’t be here for this. They already wouldn’t let Alec get involved because of showing Clary favoritism, what do you think they’d do if Simon, her  _ best friend _ , keeps hanging around all the places Clary just happens to keep turning up to?” Her hands are on her hips now and she sighs. “There’s no winning this. I couldn’t keep it quiet enough and now Clary’s going to suffer for it.” 

Jace grabs Izzy’s staff off the ground and tosses it to the side of the room along with his own before coming up to her. “Hey. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get defeated so easily, and you’re not about to start now. Nothing is over. This is just a… a temporary setback. I’m sure Simon’s fine, and I’m sure whatever he’s doing with Clary, he has a good reason for. She isn’t off limits or anything. We’re observing her but she isn’t in prison, after all.” 

Jace, Izzy has to admit, has several good points. And she feels a lot better now that she’s let out some of her anger by hitting things (well, specifically hitting  _ Jace) _ . 

“You’re right,” she says, and rolls her eyes at the immediate smirk the words bring to Jace’s face. 

“I know,” he says. “Simon might be naive, but he knows what’s at stake here and he cares about Clary more than any of us. He isn’t out there giving her a Shadow World tour or anything. It’s going to be fine.” 

They go their separate ways to clean up and go about their normal duties, no matter how difficult it is to focus on things when all Isabelle wants to do is ask for an update on Simon and Clary. 

She almost regrets that eagerness when the Shadowhunters report back and she actually  _ does _ get the summary of what they saw, stifling a groan and resting her head in her hands at the news of Simon and Clary getting coffee and then watching hours, and hours, and hours of anime until the Shadowhunters had given up and returned back. 

“Should’ve sent me out to tail them,” Izzy says with a shake of her head. “Simon’s been trying to get me to watch one of those animated shows for ages.” 

“Do you think this is funny, Isabelle?” Lydia questions. 

“About as funny as Simon… I don’t even know what you thought you were going to catch him doing, to be honest. He and Clary were friends way before either of them found out about the Shadow World. Of course they were just watching shows and stuff, that’s what friends do.” Izzy shrugs it off like she wasn’t just having an existential crisis over what they might be doing all night. 

“Is it?” Lydia asks. “You’re dismissed. Thank you,” she says to the two Shadowhunters she sent out. Only once they’re out of the office with the door shut behind them does Lydia turn back to Isabelle. 

“Because if that’s what friends  _ do _ then why didn’t they see each other once over the past year since Clary lost her memories?” Lydia continues pointedly, and Isabelle tenses. 

“Who says they haven’t?” Izzy recovers quickly. “I’m sure they’ve gotten together plenty of times while Simon worked on that book of his, and-” 

“Cut the act, Isabelle. I need the truth, and I need it now. If Clary knows more about the Shadow World than you put in that report-” 

“She doesn’t,” Izzy holds firm. 

“I can’t help you if I don’t know the whole truth,” Lydia repeats, emphasizing the word ‘help’.

“Like you’re actually here to help me,” Izzy mutters, and Lydia sighs. 

 “I had no choice this morning when security told me they saw Simon and Clary together,” Lydia points out. “Not after the speech you gave. I let you pick who to send but that was the best I could do.” 

“You let me...” Izzy starts, then trails off, realizing that Lydia’s right. She could’ve assigned anyone but she let Izzy pick. “Why?” 

“Because I meant what I said before. I’m not here as your enemy. I need you to trust that,” Lydia says, her tone still steady but a bit softer than before. 

Isabelle knows there’s more to it than just that. As much as she hates this whole situation, even if she believes that Lydia isn’t here to work against her she still can’t trust her with what they did with Clary’s memories. But how else is she going to explain why Simon is suddenly spending time with Clary? 

“I stand by my report,” Izzy says, her tone resolved. 

“Should I bring Simon in for questioning, then?” Lydia counters. 

For a moment Izzy thinks about caving, but holds strong instead. After all, Simon knows what’s at stake here. He’ll cover for them, for Clary - he knows what she put in that report so he knows exactly how much he’s allowed to say. 

“If you feel that’s necessary,” Izzy replies cooly. 

Lydia sighs. “Fine,” she says, standing and leaving abruptly.

The moment she’s gone Izzy pulls out her phone. 

“Simon,  _ what the hell are you doing _ ,” are the words that leave her mouth before he can get a single word in. 

“She called me! What was I supposed to do - after everything we dumped on her, and everything she’s going through, I wasn’t just going to turn her away.”    
  
“I know, but…” 

“I didn’t tell her anything. Nothing she didn’t already know, I swear. Not that we had a lot of time to talk anyway before you guys sent  _ Shadowhunters _ after us. I feel like if either of us gets to be mad about something right now, it might be me,” Simon points out. 

Izzy sighs into the phone. “It was Lydia,” Izzy says. “Someone caught you two on surveillance and she followed up. You noticed them, didn’t you? That’s why you two watched cartoons all night?” 

“They aren’t cartoons, it’s  _ anime _ , and yes. I could smell their angelic blood from a mile away.” 

Izzy smiles. “Good. I picked those two because they come from a very long, very pure line of Shadowhunters, so they’d have the most concentrated amount of nephilim bloodline. Finally, their endless, obnoxious purity boasting came in handy for something.” 

“Thanks. Sorry if I got you into trouble,” Simon says, and she knows that he means that, no matter how much he’d do it again in a heartbeat. 

“It’s fine. You might get questioned by Lydia tomorrow, though,” she warns. 

“I kinda figured. I won’t say anything, don’t worry.” 

“I’m not,” Izzy lies. It isn’t Simon specifically that’s worrying her, but how fragile this entire situation is and how quickly she’s realizing they aren’t as in control as they once thought. “I hope you two had a good time anyway. How is she?” 

“She’s confused, and now she thinks she’s being stalked so that isn’t helping things, but… she’s mostly fine, I think. Overall. And it was nice to see her again outside of… you know, everything else.” 

Izzy smiles again, hearing how happy and content Simon sounds even after the turn his night took. “Good. Well, I should try and get some sleep here tonight, but I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“One way or another,” Simon promises. “G’night, Iz.” 

Izzy hangs up the phone and heads to her room to change into her nightgown, suddenly extra grateful for the sparring session with Jace that left her exhausted enough that she falls asleep the second her head hits the pillow. 

\--- 

Any peace Isabelle feels after waking up from a decent night’s sleep followed by Simon sweet-talking his way through Lydia’s questioning is shattered by the news she receives at noon.

“Ma’am,” Underhill says after a hesitant tap on her door. She can tell by the look on his face that whatever he’s here for isn’t good. 

“Now what?” Izzy asks, steeling herself for whatever news she’s about to hear. 

“It’s Clary, Ma’am. She’s met up with Lucian Garroway.” 

Izzy takes a deep breath before replying. 

“Of course she has. I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming.” Simon, Luke, and a few brief encounters with Magnus were the only contact Clary had with the Shadow World in the time of the memories they returned to her. Of course being followed by a couple of Shadowhunters the day before wouldn’t be enough to keep her away from the man who practically raised her. 

“What do you want me to do?” Underhill asks. 

“Send the same two as yesterday to trail them and report back. No contact unless absolutely necessary.” Izzy says, each word more reluctant than the last. “And…” Izzy clenches her teeth. “And inform Lydia Branwell immediately.” 

“Understood.” Underhill nods and leaves. 

She lucked out with Simon, but Luke? He’s been on the outskirts of all of this since the moment Clary lost her memories. There’s no telling how he’ll react to being with her again, or what he might say to her… and more importantly, what the Shadowhunters she just dispatched might overhear him saying to her. 

She doesn’t have long to think about it before Lydia’s knocking at her door and entering her office in the same swift movement, not waiting to be told to come in. 

“First Simon, and now Lucian? An entire year of silence, and now she’s meeting with both of them within 24 hours of one another. This isn’t a coincidence, Isabelle,” Lydia says, making it very clear she’s stating a fact and not asking a question. 

Isabelle remains silent. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” Lydia asks. 

“Nothing,” Izzy insists. “You read the report. Clary still doesn’t remember anything from the day she lost her memories on, and-” 

“Please do not recite your report to me,” Lydia cuts her off. “Something doesn’t add up. I  _ know _ she knew Simon and Lucian before she knew about the Shadow World, but that doesn’t explain why she hasn’t spoken to them in the last year and now suddenly has both of them on speed-dial. You said Clary only had hazy, vague ideas of things, but no specific memories of places or people. What  _ didn’t _ you put in that report?” 

“Like Simon told you, he’s definitely seen Clary over the last year, you just didn’t know about it. The same with Lucian, I’m sure.” 

“Maybe I should ask Clary about it, then. I wanted to keep my distance but-”    


“No!” Izzy says, now the one to cut Lydia off in a panic. If there’s one variable entirely out of her control right now it’s Clary. She has no clue what Clary might say, what she might admit to, what she might  _ do _ … “Please.” Isabelle says, softer this time. 

“Please what? I can’t figure out how to help if you don’t _ tell me what I’m missing here _ .” 

Isabelle opens and closes her mouth once, and then twice, before leaving it shut. She can’t tell Lydia, not after everyone else swore to keep it between them. She can’t be the one to spill their secrets to the Clave envoy sent to investigate them. 

“By the  _ Angel _ , Isabelle, you are not making this easy for me right now. It’d be one thing for me to come in here, watch Clary live her life for a few days, and leave again. But these sudden interactions with Simon and Lucian changes everything.” Lydia’s clearly exasperated now, pacing back and forth across the open floor of Isabelle’s office. 

Izzy doesn’t say anything else just then. She has nothing else to say, not if she’s sticking to her story of total deniability. 

“He’s going to kill me for this,” Lydia mutters, more to herself than to Izzy, before pulling out her phone and putting it on speaker while it rings. “But I need you to trust me, and this is the only way.” 

The last voice Izzy expects to hear when it picks up is her brother’s. The last thing she expects him to do is  _joke_. 

“Hey, Lyds. How is everything, they aren't making you eat last pick during meals are they, because I know how that food gets when--” Alec starts, and then a pauses, followed by, “...I’m echoing. Am I on speakerphone?” 

“You are,” Lydia says. “I’m with Isabelle.” 

Alec’s voice immediately loses even the forced attempt of humor from before. “What happened?” 

“Clary met with Simon yesterday, and Lucian today. Something doesn’t make sense, she hasn’t spoken to either of them since she lost her memories, and now suddenly they’re watching shows and grabbing coffee like nothing ever happened. And if I don’t get ahead of this before the Council gets wind it isn’t going to be pretty.” 

“Fuck,” Alec swears. “I wasn’t there, and I’m hanging up before you say anything so I can keep my last remaining shred of plausible deniability in tact, but… Izzy, tell her. You can trust Lydia.” 

Isabelle gapes at the phone. “Excuse me?” 

“I said you can trust Lydia. They sent her because everyone thinks she hates me but we’ve been working together for months. It’s quite convenient, and quite clever-” 

“And entirely my idea,” Lydia chimes in. 

“-and almost entirely Lydia’s idea,” Alec says with a slight laugh. “But the jokes on the Council because she isn’t there to sabotage us. She wants to protect Clary, too. And she’s right, the only way we’re getting ahead of this is if she can put a good spin on it to the Council, but she can only do that if she knows what she’s spinning. So whatever she needs to know right now…” 

Izzy picks up on his particular choice of words at the end:  _ whatever she needs to know right now _ . She doesn’t have to tell Lydia everything, just what might be helpful for this particular situation. Alec might trust Lydia, and maybe that means Isabelle trusts her too, to a certain extent - but not enough to give her a complete rundown of everything they’ve covered up in the past few days. 

“Okay,” Izzy agrees finally. “I’ll talk to her. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were  _ friends _ .”

“Would you’ve believed me if I did?” Alec reasons, and Isabelle stays silent because he has a point. There’s no way she would’ve, not after the act they put on for so long, if this wasn’t so important to all of them. “It’s going to be alright. Whatever happens, we got this,” Alec reassures her. She’d feel a lot better if he were here and not in another country, but she’ll take what she can get. 

“Of course we do. We’re Lightwoods,” Izzy says, and catches a flicker of a smile on Lydia’s face at that. 

“Thanks, Alec.” Lydia hands up the phone and turns back to Isabelle who looks back at her like she’s grown a second head. 

“Okay, so I didn’t lie,” Izzy starts slowly. “But I suppose I may have left a few details off the report which, while not strictly relevant before, may be applicable to the Simon and Luke developments…” Izzy takes a deep breath and pauses, giving herself one last moment to change her mind before she says something she can’t take back. But she trusts Alec even if she isn’t entirely sure about Lydia, and so she lets out her breath and makes the leap of faith. 

  
  



	25. Part Twenty-Five: Luke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Luke finally gets a call from Clary he doesn't waste any time agreeing to meet with her. Unfortunately, he underestimates how closely Clary's being watched, which puts a bit of a damper on their first reunion.

It takes all of his self control for Luke to not pick up the phone and call Clary the moment Alec tells him that Magnus and the others were going to give her her memories back from before her 18th birthday. When they discussed it a year ago and made the decision, it seemed like a sacrifice he could make if it meant keeping her safer. Lucian was raised a Shadowhunter, after all, and he heard the same stories everyone else did regarding the wrath of the Angels. They an be merciless, and they can be petty, and they seemed to be an excessive amount of both when they punished Clarissa for her decision to ignore them to stop Jonathan. 

He doesn’t know if, knowing what he knows now, he’d make the same choice again. But as it stands he’s just glad to know that soon he’ll have a part of his life back he never wants to part with again. 

Except the ritual is completed, and Clary hasn’t made a single attempt to reach out to him. He’s been checking in with the precinct and has Simon send Clary his number with the clear message that he doesn’t expect her to use it, but it’s there if she wants it. He wants to give her whatever space and time she needs, as impatient as he feels, because he gets it, and the last thing he wants to do is overwhelm her and push her away the moment he has a chance to get her back. 

So he waits. Maryse suffers the worst of his worrying, the casual questioning of what he’ll do if Clary doesn’t  _ want _ to talk to him again after the decision they made for her, and Maryse reassures him time and time again that she’ll come around. Luke tries not to act as anxious as he feels, however, because Maryse is going through some child-related struggles of her own with Lydia at the Institute monitoring Isabelle and Alec resigned to remaining in Idris for the time being after some not-so-subtle hinting from the Consul, she has enough on her plate to worry about. 

In fact, it’s all of that which keeps Luke busy for now, biding his time with work and errands and pretending he isn’t just waiting for his phone to ring - which it does, finally, after two days that feel more like two years. 

He doesn’t know the number that shows up on his phone screen but the area code is local and his hopes are already up when he answers. 

“This is Luke,” he says, trying to ignore the way his heartbeat speeds up in the beats of silence that follow. He almost thinks it’s a wrong number or a pocket dial until he hears breathing, and then, finally, Clary’s voice. 

“Luke,” Clary says, and  _ God  _ does it feel good to hear her say his name again. He hopes it doesn’t show in his voice but there’s an immediate welling of tears in his eyes. He’s home alone, thankfully, so there’s no one around to see the way he has to blink them away and clear his throat before speaking again. 

“Clary. It is so good to hear your voice.” Even that much nearly chokes him up again but he manages to keep it under control. “How are you?” 

“I’m… okay. All things considered,” she says. “So you know, then? About my memories?” 

“I do. Alec told me when you got them back,” Luke admits, not wanting to keep anything from her he doesn’t have to. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call right away. It was just-” 

“Hey, you don’t have to explain yourself to me, kiddo. I know you’re going through a lot right now, so take all the time you need.” Even as he says the words to reassure her that she didn’t do anything wrong, he selfishly hopes she won’t need that much more time and space. His hope comes true in her reply. 

“Thanks, Luke, but that’s actually while I’m calling. I don’t suppose you want to, I dunno, meet up for lunch or something? I want to talk, I have some questions but I don’t think it’s the sort of thing I want to do over the phone.” There’s something heavier in Clary’s voice now, her words slowing as if she’s preoccupied as she says them. 

“Of course. Just name the place and I’ll be there.” 

\---

They meet at Taki’s - or, at least, at what will soon be Taki’s - after Luke asks Maia for the favor of a place to meet that isn’t in public. Though he invites Maia to stay, at least for a little bit to say hi, Maia insists that she doesn’t want to be there when Clary shows up and tells him to text her when they’re both gone. Maia is definitely acting strange but he doesn’t question it just then, not when there are so many other things he has to worry about. 

Luke is already waiting when Clary shows up. She looks so different up close - he’s kept an eye on her from afar but for the most part contented himself with Maryse’s updates. But now he turns to face her as she enters the door and there’s only a moment of hesitation before they clear the space between them and he has her wrapped up in his arms. 

“I missed you so much,” He says into her hair, leaning over so that his head rests on the top of her’s. 

“I missed you, too,” Clary says before pulling away. “Well, I mean, now that I know I missed you, I missed you. I obviously didn’t before when I didn’t remember you existed.” 

“That was the whole point. You couldn’t be part of this world anymore. You still can’t, or shouldn’t, or..” he trails off, already messing this up. “It’s complicated. And it was a lot less complicated for you to just forget everything.” 

Clary nods. “Yeah, I’m starting to get that,” she agrees “But I don’t regret taking my memories back. I’m glad I remember you and Simon again, even if it does complicate things.” 

Luke is relieved to hear that, even if it doesn’t mean more of a struggle for Clary. At least she doesn’t have to face that or any challenge, on her own from here on out. 

That is, if she’s willing to accept their help. 

“How are you? I’ve seen the art from your exhibit, it’s absolutely stunning. Your mother would be so proud of you, Clary. I know I am.” There are so many things that Luke wants to say, things he’s been holding in for an entire year now, that they all want to come bursting out at once. He starts with this one, though, because it’s a relatively safe topic to bring up. Art, the one constant in Clary’s life... except he hadn’t considered the other words that left his mouth until he sees Clary’s expression tighten, lips pursed, hands fidgeting at her sides. 

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” Clary says. 

Luke’s brows furrow. Her art? Why would that-- 

“I remember everything up to my 18th birthday, which included Mom,” Clary continues, choosing her words carefully. “I know - I mean, I don’t know, but I can kinda guess since we aren’t at the apartment and I tried to call her number but it’s disconnected and…” There are tears in her eyes despite her best efforts to sound calm and rational, and instead of answering Luke steps forward again to pull Clary into a much tighter hug than before. 

“She died almost a year ago,” Luke confirms. “During the time you still can’t remember.” 

He hears Clary take a deep, shuddering breath against his chest. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” She asks. 

“I don’t think I should,” Luke says. “At least not until-” 

Clary takes an abrupt step away. “Yeah, yeah. Until someone else gets to decide what I can know about my own life.” Her words are harsh and bitter. 

“Clary…” Luke starts, but Clary shakes her head. 

“I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, Luke,” she sighs. “I know I did this to myself, apparently. It just… sucks.” 

“I know,” Luke agrees, and though he tries to offer her a reassuring smile it’s tainted with the sadness over thinking of Jocelyn’s death, remembering the toll it took on Clary when it happened and imagining her experiencing that loss all over again. 

“Maybe I’ll remember on my own soon enough.” Clary’s words would be hopeful if what she wants to remember wasn’t so tragic. “It’s happening more and more often, but Simon told me to stop going the places I’m drawn towards, at least for a little while. And after those people were following us yesterday-” 

“Woah, woah. Who was following you yesterday?” Luke asks. He just got back from Idris, assuming if he missed anything worth noting someone, Maryse at least, would’ve told him. Unless she hasn’t heard, either. It’s difficult to stay in the loop when Isabelle and the others are dealing with things in the Institute sometimes, and it isn’t as if they  _ owe _ him or their mother constant updates, but sometimes being out of the loop stings more than he should allow it to. 

“Yesterday, some of those people like Izzy and Jace. Simon sensed them coming and we stopped talking about things and just went back to my school and watched some anime until they left. But I guess they don’t like that I’m remember when I’m not supposed to. Simon said I’m making them nervous or something,” Clary says with a laugh. “I can’t imagine a universe where any of them are threatened by  _ me _ of all people. I mean, have you  _ seen _ them?” 

Luke has to laugh at that because he has - and he realizes that he’s been glamoured this entire time. She has no idea he’s like them. He wants to show her, but just when he’s about to he thinks twice about it. If she knows, will she be more likely to avoid him as well. He doesn’t think he can handle that, not after just getting her back. 

So instead, he says, “Yeah, I’ve had plenty of experience with them. But I think you’d be surprised at what you can do.” 

He wants to say more. He wants to tell her all about the weeks she spent training, how she pinned and disarmed them her fair share of times, but he doesn’t. He can’t. 

This is a lot more difficult than he thought it was going to be. 

Clary seems to share his feelings on the matter, because she grows quiet for a minute. 

“I don’t want this to be weird. I’m not going to ask you anything anymore, I just… I just want us to go back to the way it was before, as much as we can. It’d be nice to have you around again. I didn’t realize just how lonely the last year was for me until now.” Her voice is quiet and it breaks his heart with every word she says. It’s such a simple request, something that she shouldn’t even have to worry about, but he can see by the way she averts her gaze that she’s almost afraid of his answer. 

“Of course, Clary. I’m always going to be here for you. I’ve been here for you the past year, in little ways. Maryse has been to every single one of your shows to take pictures for me. I even bought one from your very first exhibition. It’s hanging up at home.” Luke beams with pride. 

There are tears in Clary’s eyes that she blinks away, smiling back. “Alright. Good.” She pauses for a moment before a small smirk tugs at the corners of her lips. “So… who’s Maryse?” 

Luke laughs. “Maryse is the woman I’m…  _ seeing _ .” Luke isn’t sure how Clary will take that news. He knows that he and Jocelyn were never strictly a thing, but he doesn’t want Clary to think that he moved on from her and her mother without a second thought. He’s relieved when Clary smiles at the news. 

“Tell me about her,” she says, catching him by surprise. . 

“She owns a bookshop.” It’s not a lie, and as good a place to start as any. 

The rest of their meeting falls into a much more comfortable back-and-forth, with Clary filling him in on a few things that he didn’t get from secondhand sources and Luke giving vague descriptions of a ‘classified’ job he got over the past year that he can’t say much about just yet. 

They’re talking for about an hour when he notices the shimmer of a poorly-held-up glamour out of the corner of his eye, just outside a cracked window (which they can’t close or risk passing out from all the paint fumes Maia left from that morning), and realizes that they’re being observed. 

“You know what,” Luke says suddenly. “Do you have something to write with? I know you’ll miss the Jade Wolf and there’s a great new spot that opened up downtown…” 

He waits until Clary fishes a pad and pencil out and takes it with an easy smile, writing, 

_ ‘We’re being observed. No need to leave, but don’t ask me anything about the Shadow World.’  _

He tears the page out and hands it over to her, and she reads the words with the briefest flicker of a frown before recovering quickly, smiling back up at him. 

“Thanks! I’ll definitely check it out.” Clary takes the note and folds it up, sliding it into her pocket and out of sight. 

“So, this bookstore of Maryse’s - does it have a good art section?” 

They keep up the conversation for another two hours - even with uncomfortable addition of knowing they’re being listened in on, and the fact that half the things Clary wants to talk about they can’t even mention now, neither one of them can bring themselves to want to leave. They only do when Clary admits she has dinner plans with her roommate later and needs to go get ready. 

They stand and hug again, lingering in a silence much more comfortable than when they started off their reunion. When he pulls away Luke ruffles Clary’s hair a bit, relishing the way she scrunches her nose and glares up at him with that not-really-angry pout. 

“I meant what I said earlier,” Luke repeats. “Whenever you need to talk, about  _ anything _ , I’m just a call away.” 

“I know,” Clary says. “Thanks, Luke. I’ll take you up on that. I need some nice fall portraits for one of my classes and the Farmhouse would have the best scenery to paint - we could make a weekend out of it like old times.” 

“I’d love that,” Luke agrees, forcing himself to stay where he is instead of following her outside, not sure if he’d be able to watch her walk away and not call her back or follow her. 

He waits until he’s certain she’ll be at the other end of the block before saying out loud, “Whoever’s there, you can come out now.” 

His voice is accusatory and bold, and as he waits he wonders if they’ll be too afraid to show themselves or if they’re already gone. And then, a minute later, the door opens and two Shadowhunters step inside, a boy and a girl both barely old enough to drive, if Luke had to guess. They look familiar but he doesn’t know them by name.  

“How long have you known?” The boy asks. 

“Long enough,” Luke replies. “You really need to work on your glamours.” 

The girl looks close to tears. “Please, you can’t tell them we got caught. If Lydia tells the Consul-” 

“I’m not going to get you in trouble,” Luke sighs. 

“...but we spied on you,” the boy points out, and the girl hits him soundly on the arm for the reminder. 

“You were following an order. I can’t fault you for that. Just tell me how much you heard and we’ll call it even.” He needs to know how much of the start of their conversation they heard, before he knew to watch what he said. 

The girl shakes her head quickly. “Nothing that matters. You two were pretty boring, actually. Not as bad as when we had to stand there and watch Simon and Clary watch stupid cartoons all night, but…” 

Luke hopes the girl isn’t lying, but he doesn’t think she is. 

“I just have one other question - who sent you here?” 

“Underhill, but he got the order from Miss Lightwood,” the girl offers quickly, clearly eager to stay on his good side so he doesn’t go to Lydia or Isabelle about them.  

So they are monitoring Clary, then. Looks like it doesn’t matter how private a meeting place they pick if she’s being observed that closely… he’ll have to figure something out for the next time. That is, if Clary trusts him enough for a next time, after two days in a row of this happening. 

“You two better head back. Remember, this conversation never happened and no one has to hear about your rookie mistake,” Luke says. 

“Understood, sir,” the boy says before they re-glamour and leave. 

Luke texts Maia that the Diner is all clear and heads out himself. 

His worrying over Clary might have just gotten worse instead of better, but it’s more than he ever imagined he’d have with Clary again. There aren’t enough words for how thankful he is, no matter what else comes of it. But it’s Clary’s own relentless curiosity that keeps driving her back: to the Institute, to the Shadowhunters, to a life she was meant to leave behind. Even after Simon she wanted to meet with him, and even after today he’s certain she’d risk it all again tomorrow for the same chance at answers. 

He just wishes he knew how to protect Clary from herself, because he isn’t sure how long she can keep this up before someone much more powerful than Lydia gets involved… but he’s going to do his best. 

Because that’s what fathers do. 


	26. Part Twenty-Six: Maryse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maryse sometimes misses the days when she was in the middle of all the action... she has no idea how much she's about to regret that wish when Clary turns up at the bookshop and things take an unexpected turn.

Maryse can’t help but worry. She does her best not to show it in her call with Luke when he tells her that he’s going to meet with Clary because she knows how much this means to him and she doesn’t want to put a damper on it, but it’s been a long while since Luke was a Shadowhunter. She’s positive he isn’t looking at this from a Council point of view even though he knows exactly what sort of politics are involved. They’ll be watching her every move, which means they’ll know he met with her, which means they’ll be watching _his_ every move next. 

But as much as she knows the way the Council works as a Shadowhunter she’s also been a mother for over two decades now, and she knows that even if Luke did consider all the risks he’d still meet with Clary, because there’s no way he’ll ignore a call and a request from the girl he practically raised as his own daughter for most of her life no matter what effect it might have on himself. 

So she keeps those thoughts to herself and wishes him the best before hanging up. 

The rest of the time she spends in the bookshop seems to drag on the longer she doesn’t hear back from him. And then she gets the text from Isabelle. 

 **Isabelle: Mom, Luke is with Clary.** **  
****Maryse: Is he?**

**Isabelle: You knew.**

**Isabelle: Of course you knew. And you didn’t think to** **_warn_ ** **me?**

**Maryse: It would’ve looked worse if you knew ahead of time. It isn’t as if either of us were going to stop him.**

**Isabelle: At this point I might as well invite Clary back and give her a room! It’d certainly save on all the surveillance we’re using.**

**Maryse: You’re managing this perfectly, dear. If you need to talk I’m always here, but it’s going to be alright. I have total faith in you. We all do.**

**Isabelle: Thanks, mom. Yell at Luke for me when he gets back.**

**Maryse: Will do.**

She shakes her head and puts the phone back down on the counter as the bell rings, and busies herself with a customer for a few minutes. The rest of the afternoon is quiet until Luke returns, and Maryse immediately raises an eyebrow. 

“Isabelle would like me to yell at you for her. Apparently she’s getting extremely tired of sending out extra Clary surveillance.” Maryse’s tone gives away that she doesn’t expect Isabelle is actually angry at Luke, the same way she wasn’t actually angry at Maryse for not telling her. They’re all in a very difficult situation here, one they partially created for themselves, and they’re all dealing with it the best they can. Her daughter knows that she’d never keep anything important from her, and as important as Luke talking with Clary was, Maryse knows as well as Isabelle that there’s no real harm there, not the way Lydia and the others might imagine. 

“Well, maybe they should spend less money on surveillance and more money on _training_ their surveillance, because I spotted them from a mile away,” Luke shakes his head. “But not until I got to talk with Clary for a little while about everything. And even after we had to watch what we said… I never thought I’d have that opportunity again, Maryse.” Luke’s entire face changes with that admission and the tears of relief and happiness that spring to his eyes and spill over for just a second before he blinks them away means she made the right call in not trying to stop him. 

His voice is full of soft disbelief when he adds, “I get to have her back.”

When he first told her that the others got Clary her memories back of everything from before she turned 18, Maryse was skeptical of what that would mean for Lucian and Simon. After all, they were part of both worlds, which was the whole reason the group decided to remove those memories in the first place. She still isn’t sure it’s the safest decision, but only time will be able to tell. For now it seems to be going alright, despite the paranoia it’s brought about from Lydia and the Council. 

“And how is she? Nothing seemed strange, no headaches like before?” Maryse asks. 

Luke shakes his head. “No, nothing like that. Just Clary, the way she always was before she got dragged into this world. It’s a shame Jocelyn isn’t here, because this is what she always wanted for her - a normal life, even after the age of 18, no danger, no demons, just going to school and living a perfectly mundane life.” 

“Yes, perfectly mundane, meeting up with Vampires and Shadowhunters every other day for lunch,” Maryse points out. 

Luke sighs. “Okay, maybe not _completely_ mundane,” he admits. “But close enough.” 

“You almost sound like you don’t want her to come back,” Maryse observes, careful to keep her tone neutral. She wants to know where he’s at with this, to figure out where his mind is and what he’s feeling, but she doesn’t want to overstep. After all, she barely knew Clary before she lost her memories, and it isn’t strictly her place, as much as she’s invested in her for Jace and Lucian’s sakes. 

“I don’t know what I want, and it doesn’t matter. It’s about Clary, and what she wants. Right now I’m just glad she’s reaching out to me and Simon. And if a single Shadowhunter thinks there’s anything they can do to keep me from my daughter they have another thing coming.” There’s a finality to Luke’s words that tells Maryse that statement is not up for debate, so she simply nods in response. 

It’s also a reminder that there _are_ Shadowhunters watching over every little thing related to Clary right now, which might include Luke after his meeting with her, and Maryse decides that this conversation may be better continued in private. 

“I close up in 30, what do you say to grabbing some takeout on the way back and I’ll meet you then? You can tell me everything.” She suggests. 

“Sounds perfect,” Luke agrees, leaning in to give her a kiss goodbye. “I’ll see you in a few.” 

Once he’s gone the minutes seem to tick by at a snail’s pace until she can finally go home and get caught up on everything she missed that Luke is willing to tell her about. Every time she thinks she’s okay with the way her life is now - and she is, for the most part, relatively happy - she’s reminded of the days she used to be the one in the thick of things. Now she relies on others to keep her even vaguely in the loop, whether it’s Alec in Alicante or Isabelle at the Institute or Lucian with Clary right now. Things were easier the past year, with nothing really going on worth keeping close tabs on, but now? Now she can’t help but feel a little left out again no matter how hard she tries to push the thought away.

It’s a feeling that doesn’t last for very long. Maryse supposes she should’ve been more careful what she wished for because the next day she finds herself more involved than she ever meant to be. 

It’s a little after 1 when Jace swings by to bring her some lunch. She’s decided to completely rearrange some of the shelves after a very generous recent donation leaves her with an entirely new collection of mythology books she doesn’t have a spot for. One thing leads to another and the next thing she knows it’s four hours later and she’s relocated about a fourth of the store. If Jace hadn’t called she probably would’ve worked straight through the day without stopping to eat anything at all. 

He’s helping her with a box while they finish the last slices of pizza when the bell above the door rings. She hears the sound of the box drop while her back is turned, spinning around to see Clary just inside the entrance. 

“Jace,” Clary says, surprised. 

“Clary,” Jace breathes out, the name barely audible. 

Maryse watches the two of them lock eyes, but neither of them moves from where they stand across the shop. She moves forward from behind the counter, past Jace and part of the way to Clary. 

“Hello, Clary. I’m-”   
  
“Maryse,” Clary finishes for her. “Luke told me all about you yesterday. I just…” Clary hesitates, looking past Maryse to Jace again.  “...sorry. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.” 

“Why did you decide to come here?” Maryse questions. After all, if something is wrong, if she came here for help, the last thing Maryse wants is to turn her away. 

“Just curious, I guess? Luke told me about this shop, and when he described you I thought you sounded sort of familiar… you would come to my art shows, wouldn’t you? You always said such kind things about my paintings.” Clary says. She opens her mouth to say something else, hesitates, and shuts it again. 

“They’re lovely paintings,” Maryse confirms. “I wasn’t just saying that because of Lucian.” 

“Thanks,” Clary says. Maryse watches as that look of hesitation crosses her features again, and Clary bites down on her lower lip for a moment in silence. She glances behind Maryse to Jace and realizes that her hesitation is because of him. Not specifically him, but the fact that he’s a Shadowhunter, and she just spent the last two days being followed and watched by them. 

“It’s okay. Whatever you want to say, this is a safe place,” Maryse assures her. 

“I’m not worried about that, I just-- I wanted to thank you for being there for Luke this past year,” Clary starts, her words gaining speed and strength as she goes. “The way he talked about you yesterday, I could just tell how much you mean to him. And I know how hard this year must’ve been… or at least, I can imagine, since I still don’t really know what I’m missing to actually miss it, but… you know what I mean.” Once the words start they tumble out until she starts to fumble over them and lets the sentiment rest instead. 

“You’re welcome,” Maryse says, and means it from the bottom of her heart. And this, right here, this is their Clary. A girl who lost everything, and still finds it in herself to be worried about the people around her. It’s no wonder her friends are willing to go to any lengths to protect her. 

Clary’s gaze falls back on Jace and she stares for a moment before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. 

It’s clear that, while Clary clearly came just to talk to her about Lucian, Jace’s presence is something she clearly doesn’t know what to do about. Maryse is well aware of the fact that they shouldn’t be talking, not when he might be the strongest connection to her memories during the months she can’t remember, but she doesn’t have it in her heart to send him away. 

And Jace obviously doesn’t have it in his heart to walk away, either, because though he remains uncharacteristically quiet off to the side of the room he hasn’t moved, not away from Clary or toward her, since she arrived, his gaze locked on her as if she might disappear otherwise. 

“How are you doing?” Jace asks, unable to stay silent any longer. 

“Alright, considering.” Clary replies carefully, and her words come slow as if she’s focusing on them more than she should. She looks worried - no, uncomfortable - and Maryse can’t tell if it’s the conversation or something else. 

Jace looks like he doesn’t know what to say next, and Maryse isn’t expecting the words that follow. 

“I’m sorry, for the other night. I never should’ve been there, I never should’ve dragged you back into all of this.” 

Maryse wonders if maybe she should be the one to leave now, because as much as she knows she shouldn’t let this go on much longer she knows how much Jace hurt this year. And for him to have the possibility of getting Clary back, and _regret it_ … that’s a big deal. 

“Don’t be. You didn’t mean to, and I’m not sorry at all. I don’t know what it is I lost, but I can’t shake the feeling that I want it back.” Clary takes a few steps towards him as she speaks and Maryse tenses. 

“Perhaps this conversation can happen another time. I’m not sure it’s such a good idea right now.” Maryse doesn’t know when this theoretical ‘other time’ is, but that hardly matters. What matters is getting Clary out of here before anyone else can show up and see them all together. 

“You’re right, I should really go-” Clary agrees quickly and starts to turn, but Jace clears the space between him and Clary and reaches out to stop her, grabbing her wrist before Maryse has a chance to react. 

She knows something is wrong by the way Jace immediately lets go, pulling his hand back as if he’s been shocked. 

Clary looks at him in shock at first, eyes wide, before she gives a sharp intake of breath and bends forward at the waist. Her breathing is labored and she brings her hands up to either side of her head, making muffled whining noises that sound like she’s trying to hold back a proper cry. 

“Clary-” Jace starts, moving forward again to help her, but this time Maryse stops him with a sharp “No!” 

“We have to call Isabelle,” Maryse decides quickly. It kills her to not just call in Magnus, to have him portal Clary away someplace safe and friendly, but there are too many eyes on them all right now, and Clary especially. If they do that, and something goes wrong… 

There’s only so much they can keep contained, and Maryse is afraid they’ve used those moments up when Clary drops to her knees, her entire body shaking. 

She gets her daughter on the phone within seconds. 

“Clary came to the bookshop while Jace was here. She’s in pain, something’s wrong. It looks like what you described from the Institute the other night.” 

“When did it happen?”

“Just now, when Jace reached out to stop her. She was fine and then she wasn’t, it was that fast.” Maryse doesn’t know how much of this is relevant but she doesn’t want to leave anything out. After all, it was the night she saw Jace again that started all of this, so it seems worth noting that this is specifically brought about by his touch. She hadn’t seemed to feel anything just watching him from across the room. 

“She’s remembering things again,” Isabelle says. “Shit. _Shit._ How bad is it?” 

“Bad enough that I can’t keep her here. She doesn’t look good, Isabelle. What do you want us to do?” It feels so strange to give control of something like this over to Isabelle - not that she doesn’t trust her, but because Maryse is so used to taking control herself or watching Alec make the calls. It’s still strange, but wonderful to watch her daughter be the one to step up and make the difficult decisions now the way she proved time and time again she could. 

And this decision, Maryse knows, is a very difficult one for her not just because of the current interest in Clary’s situation and how it reflects on Isabelle as Head of the Institute, but because of how much Maryse knows Isabelle cares for Clary. She waits through the silence that comes from the other end of the phone, hearing a heavy sigh before an actual answer. 

“Have Jace call Lorenzo - he has the number and don’t let him say he doesn’t - and have her portalled to the Infirmary. I’ll tell Lydia we’re bringing her in and prep the team here.” Isabelle’s words are resigned but final. 

“Okay,” Maryse agrees, hanging up the phone. 

“Jace, call Lorenzo. We’re taking her to the Institute.” 

“ _What?”_

“Jace!” 

Clary’s muffled cries shift to a brief scream before she can silence them again, and a second later Jace makes the call.


	27. Part 27: Clary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little more is learned about exactly how, and to what extend, Clary's memories are returning, and she ends up closer to the life she forgot than she's been the past year.

Clary felt the headache coming on the longer she stood in Maryse’s bookshop. She should’ve known better than to stay but she couldn’t help it - and it was more than just wanting to thank Maryse for being there for Luke while Clary wasn’t part of his life. 

It was Jace. 

Jace, who stood across from her like a deer in headlights from the moment she walked in through the front door. 

Jace, who looked like he wanted to cry at the very sight of her, whether in relief or frustration she couldn’t tell. 

Jace, who she feels so impossibly drawn towards, unable to turn away, unable to keep even the slightest bit of self-preservation while he’s close enough to reach out and touch. 

She tries to, though. As the pain in her head builds and Maryse suggests she leave, Clary turns to do just that. Except Jace is just as instinctively drawn as she is, and reaches out to stop her. Jace can’t let her go, and now Clary can’t leave, because she’s on her knees on the floor of the bookshop with her head in her hands, doing her best not to scream. 

It was Jace’s touch that kickstarted the memories locked away from her in the alley outside her art show. They came back in trickles, each one fighting harder than the next to break through the block placed in her mind, but stronger than any pull she feels to Maia’s restaurant or that strange dilapidated church is the pull Clary feels to Jace. 

And when he reaches out to stop her it’s stronger - and more painful - than any recollection before. 

Clary sees flashes of gold, she sees runes (and  _ knows _ they’re runes, specially, and not just symbols), she sees Jace in a club killing a demon, she sees a kiss in a strange, magical forest, a dance at a wedding, ice skating… the flashes come quickly, bright and violent, and she can no longer hold back the pain of them breaking free when she finally screams. 

There are voices around her, a sudden light, and then she feels hands on her and she’s being taken through that light. The scene around her shifts from the somewhat dimly lit bookshop to a brighter place she recognizes, but immediately wishes she didn’t, because the moment she knows she’s inside of that building, the one she could barely make it up the steps to before, the pain in her head becomes excruciating and she passes out. 

\---

Clary drifts in and out of consciousness, hearing voices around her almost constantly whenever she’s awake enough to listen. 

“Her vitals are stable.” “Do you think it’s safe to keep her here, won’t this building make her worse?” “How much do you think she remembers?” “Herondale, for the last time,  _ stay out of the infirmary _ . That’s an order.” 

When she finally manages to stay conscious for more than just a few seconds at a time it’s to the sound of a soft, concerned female voice speaking to her from the side of the bed. She doesn’t recognize it immediately, but whoever it is seems to be in the middle of a long stream of one-sided conversation, and Clary has the dawning realization that they’ve been speaking to her while she was unconscious. In fact, they probably think she still is. 

 “I hope I didn’t make the wrong call bringing you here, Clary. I just don’t know what else to do, and at least in here I can keep an eye on you. In here I can keep you safe. Please,  _ please _ let that be enough.” 

There’s something about the way that the words choke off towards the end that prompts Clary to open her eyes. It’s Isabelle, Clary notes, remember the name from the night she got her memories of Luke and Simon back. Simon’s girlfriend, and one of those people with all the tattoos who keep following her around. No, not tattoos she remembers suddenly, but runes. 

Shadowhunters. 

The fact that Clary can see other Shadowhunters in the distance of the large hospital-like room Clary finds herself in sets her on edge, especially after her last two experiences with them trying to spy on her and what few memories she has of them in general being surrounded by violence and danger. 

“Oh, thank the Angel, you’re awake,” Isabelle says the moment Clary’s eyes are open. Clary only realizes that Isabelle had her hand resting gently over Clary’s, which is tucked under the sheets, when Isabelle pulls it away and Clary feels the sudden lack of warmth. “How are you feeling?” 

“Not great,” Clary admits, the covers sliding off her torso as she tries sit only to experience an immediate dizzying swirl. She closes her eyes against as she lays back down onto the pillow instead. “My head is throbbing. My entire body feels like I was hit by a train, actually.” 

“We’ll bring you something for that,” Isabelle promises. “I know it hurts, but it isn’t  _ actively _ hurting, right? There’s no new, sudden pain, just the lingering headache?” 

Clary considers the distinction between those two things and nods. “Yeah, just the headache.” She tries to think, to remember what happened to her or why she was here. The last thing she remembers is going to the bookshop, and Maryse and Jace, and- 

Jace. 

Ignoring the pain the lights of the room bring immediately back to her head she opens her eyes again and scans the room for Jace, expecting him to be there for some reason and feeling horribly disappointed when he isn’t. 

“Looking for someone?” She asks, with the slightest hint of a smile on her lips. 

“Is Jace alright?” Clary asks, not bothering to hide her concern. 

“He’s fine. We weren’t sure if you’d have another reaction to him being here the way you had when he grabbed your arm in the bookshop, so we thought it might be best for him to steer clear at first. But trust me, he’s been worried sick about you and wants to see you as soon as he can.” 

“What about now?” Clary asks eagerly, and this time it isn’t just a hint of a smile as Isabelle laughs. 

“Not yet. Not until we know what we’re dealing with. Honestly, you probably shouldn’t be here at all, but I didn’t know where else to take you,” Isabelle admits, taking a moment to look around the room and see who’s in there with them before continuing in a near whisper. “Clary, what do you remember, after the bookshop?” 

“I remembered Jace. I remembered meeting him at Pandemonium that night - you were there, too, but you were blonde,” Clary recalls suddenly, placing Isabelle’s face among the images in her mind she fights to remember. “And the runes, what some of them mean… and when we kissed in that forest, while he and Simon were wrapped up in vines… ” She remembers that these things happened, she knows they’re real and not just dreams or hallucinations, but she doesn’t have a full recollection of their context. She still doesn’t remember who these people are specifically, or why they have these runes on them. 

But she does remember the way she felt about Jace in every last one of the few memories of him - no, of  _ them _ \- she got back when he touched her. Context or not, that flood of love and devotion and caring and trust, that doesn’t need any explanation. 

“But it hurt so much more than the other times,” Clary admits in a quiet voice. She doesn’t want to tell Jace that, though she suspects if she was in that much pain in the bookshop he might already blame himself. 

Isabelle moves to hover over Clary, reaching out a comforting hand to rest on her arm, and in that instant another flash comes back to Clary: she remembers waking up in this same room, sitting up so fast she collided with Isabelle’s forehead, and the feeling of a mark burned onto her neck so intense she brings a hand up to the side of her neck just to feel and make sure there isn’t one there now. Clary winces visibly at the memory just the same, taking a deep breath to steady herself. 

“Are you okay?” Isabelle asks immediately, concern clear in her tone. She’s holding her hands very purposefully clasped behind her back now and looks like she’s fighting the urge to reach back out to comfort Clary in her pain, which is obviously not a good idea. 

“I will be. It was another memory… of when I woke up here the first time, with you. I think I’m getting used to the pain now, like a migraine,” Clary says, her words coming out through clenched teeth with her eyes screwed shut, not daring to open them again just yet. 

She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know that Isabelle is pacing at the front of the bed, the click of her heels giving her anxious movements away. 

“I have to report this,” Isabelle says. 

That’s enough to get Clary to open her eyes again. 

“To who?” Clary demands, not that it matters because chances are the name, or title, or whatever would mean nothing to her still. 

“Clary, you have to understand… the Angels took your memories away as a punishment. I know that doesn’t mean anything to you right now, but that’s sort of a big deal. It’s a  _ huge _ deal, nothing like that has ever happened before. And you starting to get them back, well… no one knows what to do with that.” 

“Why does anyone have to do anything? Can’t I just get them back?” Clary demands, knowing even as the words leave her mouth that it isn’t that simple. 

“If you were just getting them back that’d be one thing, but there’s obviously resistance there. It shouldn’t hurt the way it does. Something’s wrong, and we need to find out what that something is. But I’m going to keep you as safe as possible in the meantime, okay?” Isabelle promises, and Clary believes that she means it. 

She just isn’t sure keeping her safe is something fully within Isabelle’s abilities to promise. 

Isabelle turns to leave but Clary calls out to stop her. “Wait!” Clary says, hating the sudden desperation in her tone. “I don’t want to be left in here alone.” Clary’s eyes dart warily to the other Shadowhunters mulling around - some are clearly busy with other things but others are eyeing her like she’s some animal in a zoo, and Clary has the sudden irrational fear that they’ll descend on her to poke and prod and experiment the moment Isabelle’s gone. 

Judging by the look Isabelle gives Clary after following her gaze, however, Clary wonders if her fears aren’t too far off when she sees concern mirrored back at her. 

“I can call Simon,” Isabelle offers at length. “He’s been down a few times while you were out, actually.” 

“How long was I unconscious?” Clary questions. She thought it was just an hour or two, but-

“Almost a full day,” Isabelle admits. “We sent a text to your roommate from your phone so she didn’t come looking for you. I hope that’s okay.” 

It isn’t okay. Nothing about this is okay but Clary doesn’t have the energy to be angry just then, at least not about that, so she just shrugs. 

“I’ll go get Simon, and-” 

“No need,” comes a voice from a blonde woman behind Isabelle, one Clary doesn’t recognize. “I’ll stay with Clary while you write up a report now that she’s awake.” 

Clary looks from the new arrival to Isabelle and back again. “Sorry, no offense but I’d rather have Simon stay with me,” she says. “But thanks for the offer.” 

The blonde woman smiles, not unkindly. “I’m sure you would,” she agrees. “But you and I need to have a chat anyway, so we might as well get it out of the way.” 

“I don’t even know your name,” Clary points out, stalling. She doesn’t like this, not one bit, but Isabelle is just standing there and letting it happen and Clary gets the feeling neither of them have much of a say. 

“Of course you don’t, how rude of me. I’m Lydia.” The woman instinctively reaches out a hand before pausing and withdrawing it. “I suppose handshakes aren’t the best idea right now either, are they? It seems like the memories come back faster and stronger when you come into contact with someone from the time you’re missing?” 

As Lydia asks the question she sits down in the seat Isabelle was in when Clary woke up, looking over at Isabelle expectantly. “You can go. I’ve got things from here.” 

Isabelle hesitates, then nods. “Don’t worry, Clary. You’re in good hands with Lydia, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

Clary watches Isabelle leave, fighting the urge to ask again for Simon, or Jace, or for Isabelle to stay. 

“So, Clary,” Lydia starts again. “The physical contact seems to be stronger, doesn’t it, than just being somewhere?” 

Clary gives a noncommittal shrug. She doesn’t want to be interrogated right now, not when she doesn’t know what answers are safe, or where this information is going to end up. 

“I don’t know. You have enough people out there stalking me around the city, why don’t you ask them?” Clary says defensively rather than actually answer. 

Lydia frowns. “I-- okay, that was me, technically, but it was Isabelle, too, and you didn’t seem to have a problem talking with her,” Lydia counters. “I’m not your enemy, Clary. I’m here to help you. And like I told Isabelle before, who was being just as stubborn as you are now, I can’t help you if I don’t have all the information.” 

Clary eyes her warily. “I’m just really tired right now. I don’t think I’m up for talking.” 

It isn’t a lie. Her head is still throbbing and she isn’t in the mood for a ‘chat’ with Lydia, as she put it. 

“Clary, the sooner you tell me your side of things, the sooner you get rid of me,” Lydia points out, and Clary has to admit she gets credit for realizing Clary’s angle if nothing else. 

“Sorry,” Clary says with a yawn. “I can’t even think straight with this headache.” She closes her eyes, hoping Lydia will take the hint and leave her be for now. 

It doesn’t work. 

“That’s fine. I’ll put a call in for some more healing draught from Catarina for you. I’ll be right here when you wake back up,” Lydia says casually. 

Clary resolutely keeps her eyes shut, even though she isn’t actually tired enough to sleep, waiting for Lydia to get bored and leave. It doesn’t happen. Isabelle comes back, discusses the report a bit, and leaves again, but Lydia stays. Clary hears Simon’s voice at one point and it’s almost enough for her to admit defeat and talk, but she continues to fake sleep, and Simon leaves, too. 

How stubborn is this lady?! 

Clary has no idea how long she lays there, bored and listening to the noises around her, before she actually falls asleep. 

When she wakes back up she’s confused at first, forgetting where she is. Once she remembers she isn’t surprised to see Lydia still on the chair beside her, reading a book. 

“How’s your head? I have some healing potion for you that should clear any lingering aches away in no time,” Lydia says, motioning to a container on Clary’s bedside table. 

Clary frowns, and then sighs. This really is inevitable, isn’t it? 

“Alright,” Clary finally says. “I’ll talk, but under one condition.” 

“...and that is?” Lydia asks, humoring her if nothing else.

“I’ll only talk if Jace is here.” Clary makes her demand fully expecting Lydia to deny it. 

“Okay,” Lydia agrees instead.

“Okay?” Clary questions, not trusting how easy that was. 

“Sure. I don’t care who else is around to hear it as long as I get the information I need. If that’s all you wanted we could’ve done that yesterday instead of letting you pretend to sleep half the day.” 

Clary flushes slightly at the callout. 

“One stipulation,” Lydia says suddenly. “You need to tell me if you’re feeling worse when he’s here. We still aren’t sure what sort of effect being in the Institute, or being around certain people, is going to have on you. And our first goal is to keep you safe, whether you believe me or not. Deal?” 

Clary considers her options and figures it’s still her best chance of seeing Jace again any time soon, and maybe getting some answers from him the way Lydia’s hoping to get answers from her. 

“Deal.” Clary agrees, and settles back in to wait one more time. 


	28. Part 28: Jace Herondale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jace stands by Clary as she finally talks with Lydia, doing his best to be there for her while she navigates her slowly returning memories of the Shadow World.

Jace tries to sneak into the infirmary more than once while Clary is there. A few times he succeeds, not that he can really do much once he’s inside. After all, he can’t exactly be there to comfort her if he can’t even hold her hand… she isn’t even conscious to know he’s there. And that’s his fault entirely. He knows it, even if Maryse and Isabelle and Simon all insist that it isn’t. They know it, too, even if they don’t say it to his face.

He’s the reason Clary’s been unconscious for an entire day now. What if she never wakes up? What if she does, except he caused some sort of permanent, irreparable damage all because he couldn’t just keep his distance? She was trying to _leave_ , for fuck’s sake, and he just had to ruin everything. He wouldn’t blame her if she never forgave him for this, but he also doesn’t think he’d ever recover from it, either. 

After the third time in as many hours of being kicked out of the infirmary he finally agrees to stop coming back with the promise that someone tell him immediately when Clary wakes up. 

Isabelle grabs him on her way to fill out her report almost two hours later, both to talk to him and to keep him from storming in there and interrupting Lydia. 

“I can’t believe you left her alone down there,” Jace says, doing his best not to raise his voice at Izzy in his frustration. 

“I didn’t have much of a choice. And we can trust Lydia, remember. Now, look over this report and tell me if I missed anything from what you and mom told me before,” Izzy says, shoving a piece of paper at him. 

Jace reads it once, then twice, before nodding. “That’s about it. So it’s definitely the physical contact, then?” Jace isn’t sure if this is good or bad news. 

“I think so. I’d love to run some tests but I honestly don’t even know _what_ I’d test,” she admits. “I mean some of it has to just be memory, the way she showed up here and at what used to be the Jade Wolf, but it seems like most of the clear memories come from direct contact with us.” 

Jace considers this. “So now what? We quarantine her so no one from the Shadow World can touch her to stop any more from coming back?” 

Izzy only shrugs. “Guess we’ll find out after Lydia’s done talking to her.” 

Which, to Clary’s credit, ends up being a pretty long time. Jace gets word that Clary refused to talk to Lydia and fell back asleep, feeling a ridiculous amount of amusement and a hint of pride over the stalling technique. Maybe they’ll give up and leave her be if she holds out long enough. Or maybe he’ll have to sneak back in and advise she give Lydia at least enough to satisfy her for now before they _force_ her to talk, because Clary doesn’t remember exactly what it is she’s dealing with here; she doesn’t know how the Council can be. 

After the bookshop, Jace doesn’t imagine he’ll be allowed anywhere near Clary while she’s here. He isn’t expecting a personal invitation from Lydia to come down and talk with her, that’s for damn sure. 

He’s in the training room with Simon when he gets called down to the Infirmary. Simon wants to go too, and Jace hates that he has to leave him behind to go down alone. “I’ll make sure everything’s fine,” Jace reassures him. “Don’t worry.” 

“I know you will,” Simon agrees, waving him off with a resigned heavy sigh, the fact that he doesn’t need to breathe in the first place only adding the dramatics of the sigh. “Go.” 

Jace doesn’t need to be told twice. 

For the first time in days he isn’t stopped while walking through the doors of the infirmary, making a beeline for Clary’s bed. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks her immediately, fighting the urge to reach out and brush a hand over her cheek or to rest on her shoulder. 

“Fine,” Clary says, but the bags under her eyes and the strain in her voice says otherwise. “Thanks for coming.” 

“Of course. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he tells her, wondering if it’s too much to say just then, but it’s the truth. 

“He’s right,” Lydia chimes in. “We had to kick him back out at least three times while you were asleep.” 

“Six,” Jace corrects proudly with a small smirk, and Clary laughs.

By the Angel, he missed that sound. He looks down at Clary with a soft smile. 

“I was trying to ask Miss Fray here a very simple set of questions,” Lydia cuts in, breaking the moment. “But she refused to answer anything without you here.” Lydia pauses there, giving the two of them a curious look. “A strange request for someone you barely remember.” It isn’t a question, but the way she looks expectantly at Clary hints that she’d like some commentary on the ‘why’. 

“What I felt when we touched-” Clary starts, but stops just as quickly, voice already swelling with emotion. Their eyes meet and Jace is almost overwhelmed by the affection he sees in Clary’s gaze, a look he didn’t think he’d ever get to see again.  

“I know I can trust him,” Clary says, turning back to look at Lydia. “Don’t ask me _how_ I know, but I just know. And he knows this world better than I do. I don’t think it’s fair to be questioning me about things I won’t know I’m incriminating myself over.” 

Jace smirks at that, giving Lydia a ‘she has a point’ look, but Lydia only shakes her head. 

“This isn’t an interrogation,” Lydia says. Jace can see the exasperation on her face; he knows she’s said the same thing to himself and Isabelle more than once since her arrival. “You’re talking like I’m trying to arrest you.” 

“Aren’t you? I’m breaking some sort of… Angel Law or something, aren’t I? That’s what this is all about?” 

Lydia frowns. “Not technically, no. That’s the problem with your case - it’s never happened before and there’s no rule in place, no procedure to follow. That’s why we’ve been monitoring you so closely.” 

It sounds good, Jace thinks, and he’d almost believe it’s the whole truth if he didn’t already know better. “They’re afraid of you,” Jace chimes in. It earns him an immediate glare from Lydia but Clary perks up at his words. “You can do amazing things - or at least, you _could_. You’re a lot of unchecked power to have wandering around with only flashes of memory.” 

“Jace..” Lydia starts in a warning tone, but he shrugs it off. 

“She deserves to know at this point. Maybe if she understands she won’t fight us every step of the way. After all, the Clary I knew would bend over backwards to help. You just need to give her the chance.” 

He looks over to Clary at that statement and can see the way she allows the information to settle, the way she considers his words. 

“Am I dangerous?” Clary asks. And yes, Jace thinks suddenly, this is exactly what he’s talking about. Clary isn’t concerned about herself, she never is - her worry is always those around her, especially the people who matter to her. They just have to give her enough information for her to be emotionally invested, that’s all. 

“Not intentionally,” Lydia says at length, deciding to follow his lead after the response his honesty gets so quickly. “But without the proper knowledge and guidance, yes, you could be. That’s why we’re so worried about what you might remember, and if it stops at just memories or... More.” 

Of course, Jace realizes. They don’t actually care if Clary remembers him, or Simon, or the Institute. They’re worried that with the memories will come the Shadowhunter abilities she had as well. They aren’t worried about Clary’s safety, they’re worried about what she can do with the angelic blood in her veins. 

“More?” Clary asks, confused. “What kind of more?” 

Jace shares a look with Lydia. Even with her vague knowledge of the Runes returning, it’s obvious Clary doesn’t remember what they do or how they work. 

“That isn’t important for now,” Lydia says, and the look she levels Jace with almost dares him to decide otherwise for himself, but he remains silent. 

“What is important,” he continues, working off of Lydia instead of against her now, and distantly thinking that Alec would be proud of him for it. “Is that we figure out exactly what’s going on with you right now.” 

Clary looks like she’s about to speak but she hesitates again with a quick glance at Lydia. 

“It’s okay,” Jace tells her. Lydia told him what Alec said about Lydia, and as much as he doesn’t trust Lydia he trusts his parabatai explicitly. And if Alec says they can trust her… “We can trust her. And I’m here for you, every step of the way. If anyone here is looking out for you, it's me, and that I swear on my life.” 

Clary lets that statement sink in and nods. “Okay. What do you want to know?” 

“Everything,” Lydia states simply, even though this whole situation is far from simple. “I don’t know what you’ve spoken to Simon and Luke about, but I do know you only recently got your memories back of them. I know you’ve been back to what used to be the Jade Wolf, and here at the Institute. And I know you’ve remembered things about Jace, and Isabelle. I don’t know anything else, and I know what even Isabelle told me is probably censored. Anything else…” 

Lydia trails off, and Jace thinks back to how much more he knows, cataloguing the information into things he’d want to share and things he might still want to keep from Lydia. He trusts that Alec trusts her, but at the end of the day she’s still here on behalf of the Council, and she still has to do her job. It’s a struggle that Alec himself had in the past - and even deals with now - in choosing between what he wants to do and what he feels obligated to do in situations just like this one. 

It’s the reason Alec’s in Idris and not here. 

“I didn’t get to talk to Simon and Luke about much of anything,” Clary admits. “They were being super cryptic about any of this-” she admits, motioning around them to indicate what ‘this’ refers to. The Institute. The Shadowhunters. The Shadow World at large. “-and then people kept following me which kind of put a damper on the reunions, so thanks for that.” Clary rolls her eyes. 

Lydia has the good grace to look remorseful over that, at least. “Okay. And I know _how_ those memories came back, so no need to go into that right now.” Lydia adds, surprising Clary. Jace was aware that Isabelle told her that much and he’s pleasantly surprised to find that she’s kept it from the Council so far, the same way Isabelle’s kept it from any official reports. Honestly, it’s one of the few reasons he actually trusts Lydia as much as he does right now, and he can see by the way the look on Clary’s face softens from that narrowed, pointed skepticism that she’s starting to trust her, too. 

“So tell me about when you started showing up around here,” Lydia prompts instead. 

“I didn’t remember anything. I still don’t, not really. All I remember about this place are the few memories I got back that took place here, but nothing more. I can just feel that it’s important to me, like I was drawn here. It’s the same with everything I’ve been starting to remember the last year, except I didn’t realize that’s what it was. I’d get these ideas, or strong emotions, but whatever they’re attached to is hazy and abstract. I made a bunch of paintings I’m told are of things that happened to me last year, but they’re just colors and emotions to me.” 

Jace is tempted to stop her from saying too much, and opens his mouth to when she starts to mention the paintings, but stops himself. He recognizes that she’s doing the same thing Simon does where once she starts to speak on something she has to get it _all_ out for her own peace of mind, especially if it’s something she’s been keeping in. He imagines not talking about all of this as it’s happening to her has probably been even more difficult than the fact that it’s happening at all. 

So he lets her talk. Once and awhile he chimes in usually to add or clarify a small detail rather than to stop her, but he lets her talk to Lydia about all of it. The memories, the paintings, the people she encountered and the fact that they’ve all done their best to not tell her anything at all. It pains him to hear the frustration in Clary’s tone, the way she’s close to tears several times over the things she wants to remember, the things she feels like she deserves to know. 

The only time Jace does stop her is when she’s talking about the time she showed up at the Institute and they took her to Magnus’, trying to keep Alec and Magnus’ involvement in things to a minimum, and Clary follows his lead. If Lydia suspects anything she doesn’t say it - and honestly, at this point Jace wonders if she won’t just go right to Alec and Magnus after this anyway. Who knows how close they really are. 

But mostly Jace listens. Every time Clary gets nervous, or anxious, or upset, he just has to take a fraction of a step closer to draw her attention and give a reassuring smile to ease her mind. He wishes he could do more, finding himself reaching out on more than one occasion only to stop abruptly, which is just as frustrating for Clary as it is for him. 

“Why can’t I just touch everyone I have memories of until I get them back?” Clary asks by the end. 

“Because we have no way of knowing what that’ll do to you. The pain you suffer might get worse with each memory - what if the next one leaves you unconscious for a week? What if it puts you into an actual coma, or gives you an aneurysm?” Lydia points out, and with each worse outcome Jace feels his stomach churn. “It’s too risky right now. Knowing _how_ they’re returning, or at least returning the strongest, is helpful. Trust me, we have some of our best people on this for you.” 

Clary sighs but nods, and Jace is surprised to find himself inclined to actually believe Lydia at this point. 

Clary stays the remainder of the day to rest and this time Jace is allowed to stay with her, until she wakes back up and demands to leave. That’s when he’s pulled into Isabelle’s office with Lydia. 

“Should we let her go?” Lydia questions. “I said she wasn’t a prisoner here but I still feel better with eyes on her.” 

“Then give her a detail. One she knows about,” Isabelle suggests. 

“One that’s protecting her, not _spying_ on her,” Jace adds pointedly. 

“I could put in a request,” Lydia muses. “It might be best to get her out of here anyway. The longer she’s here the more she might remember that she shouldn’t. Higher risk for accidental touches, or something to activate,” Lydia says, thinking out loud more than making any actual decisions. 

“You’re _really_ that worried about Clary getting her powers back, aren’t you?” Jace demands. 

Lydia frowns. “It _is_ our major concern, yes. The Angels took both her memories and her abilities away, so both are our concerns, but the abilities are the primary focus.” 

Jace shakes his head. “Typical,” he mutters, and if Lydia takes offense she doesn’t argue. 

At great length Jace gets permission to tell Clary she’s free to go. He doesn’t have permission to offer to walk her back, but he does it anyway, and she eagerly accepts. 

The moment the crisp fall air hits them, talking and walking side-by-side, he has to fight every urge to reach out and grab her hand, or to bring his hand up to her cheek and pull her in for a  kiss. He wants this back. He wants _her_ back. And she’s here, so close, and he can tell from the way she leans in to him as she speaks that she feels some of it now, too. 

They’re both bundled up in coats and scarves and gloves and he has the passing thought that they could probably hold hands through gloves and be fine, but it feels too selfish to want to test it after everything else she’s been through the past few days. 

Jace is so wrapped up in Clary, in listening to her voice and cataloging every little change in her he sees up close that he didn’t notice from afar, that he doesn’t hear the skittering noise above them as they break off down a few side streets a matter of blocks from Clary’s school. 

He doesn't hear, or see, the demon until it’s too late. 

“Clary, move!” he shouts, shoving her roughly to the side just fast enough to put himself into the path of the demon’s claws. They tear through his leather jacket and dig into his side even as he activates his sword and swings it up and around to cut through the demon. 

A second one is on him in seconds, and this time he struggles to fight back as the fast-acting poison of the demon’s talons take effect. Everything hurts and his vision starts to spin, his attacks becoming wild and erratic. 

“Jace!” Clary screams when the demon lands another scratch, this one down the front of his chest, and the only thing that pulls him together enough to stab his sword straight through the demon’s heart is the fact that it turns towards Clary at the sound of her cry, rounding on her and lunging. Once the demon falls in front of him Jace takes one stumbling step towards Clary before falling himself. 

“Jace, oh my god, you’re bleeding,” Clary says, carefully removing his jacket to get a better look at his injuries. 

“My stele… in my pocket…” Jace manages, and it’s the only thing in his pocket so she hands it over without questioning whether it’s the right thing or not. Wasting no time activating his iratze he can feel the pain at a breaking point.

“Poison in the… claws,” is all he manages. His iratze isn’t taking effect fast enough to get them to safety and he can barely keep his eyes open without his vision blurring, on the brink of passing out. 

He only barely hears the third demon, forcing his vision to focus enough to watch Clary hesitate before instinctively reaching out for the handle of his dropped seraph blade. 

It springs to life in her hand, but even as it does she takes several terrified steps back, away from the demon focusing in on her. 

He tries to stand, to fight through the poison’s effects, but it’s too much. The effort causes the world around him to go dark and he blacks out. 

It isn’t for long - the activated iratze is fighting off the effects as fast as it can, and within seconds he’s conscious again, blinking his eyes open slowly. That’s when he hears the sound of a scream. He isn’t sure if it’s Clary or the demon as both fall at the same time. 

“Clary?” He calls out, struggling to stand, and drags himself over to her on his hands and knees when he doesn’t get a response. The demon is dead, but the denim of Clary’s jeans is torn down the side from a set of claw marks, and her eyes flutter closed. 

Jace doesn’t have time to call for backup, to try and circle through his list of warlock contacts until one answers. 

With only a second to weigh his options Jace pulls out his stele, pushes the scarf down on Clary’s neck to expose the skin there, and begins to draw an iratze. He ignores the resistance he feels, the queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he continues, leaving it red and angry on the side of her neck, and prays to the Angel it’ll work. 

The effort takes every last ounce of the small bit of strength he managed to get back from his own iratze. Jace lays himself back down on the ground next to her with just enough awareness to call for backup before blacking out again. 


	29. Part Twenty-Nine: Magnus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus gets a call that drags both him and Alec into the very situation they were told to stay away from.

When Alec’s phone rings next to Magnus he eyes it warily, spotting Jace’s name on the display followed by a little sword emoji, and then a poop emoji. It’s childish in a way Magnus never expects from Alexander, but that’s just the side of him his parabatai brings out sometimes: like the day Jace stole his phone to add the sword and muscle icon to his name, which was what prompted Alec to remove the muscle and add the poo instead. It bothered Jace so much more than he thought it would, so Alec kept it just out of sibling spite. 

Because of the memory Magnus has a smile and a light laugh already on his lips when he picks up the phone, fully expecting it to be Jace calling to berate Alexander for keeping his friendship with Lydia a secret, or to complain about the fact that Alec isn’t there to smooth things over while he’s forced to deal with a stressed-out Isabelle. 

What he isn’t expecting when he takes the call is to hear Jace’s voice weak and strained on the other end of the line, barely managing the words, “Demon attack... near Clary’s school… send help” before the phone clatters to what sounds like pavement. 

“Jace? Jace!” Magnus says into the phone, the panic rising quickly the longer he goes without a response. He can hear car horns honking and sirens in the distance through the earpiece but nothing else - no speaking, no movement at all. 

The sound of the shower turning off in the bathroom down the hall tells him exactly where Alec is, and Magnus goes with his phone in hand, the call still open, the sounds of the city soft in the background. 

“Shit,” Magnus swears, Alec’s name already on his lips as he opens the door without knocking. “Alec? You need to get out here right now.” 

Alec is already standing in the middle of the bathroom, dripping wet and pulling on the same clothes he was wearing earlier from the pile on the floor without bothering to grab new ones from the bedroom. “What happened to Jace?” Alec demands, and Magnus realizes that he must’ve felt something through the parabatai bond before the call even came in. 

Magnus holds up the phone. “He called and said there was a demon attack near Clary’s school, and asked for help before the phone dropped. I haven’t heard anything since, so I don’t think there are more demons around, but...” Magnus switched the phone to speaker where the noises of the city still played out in the background of wherever Jace is.  

Alec is still wet enough that the clothes stick to him, something he’ll be sure to regret a few minutes from now in the cold New York air. 

“He’s hurt,” Alec confirms, and Magnus knows he tapped into his parabatai bond to see just how badly. “It’s bad, but it’s healing. He must’ve gotten to his iratze before he called.” 

Magnus feels relief at this news, but Alec doesn’t seem to. Whatever is wrong must be  _ very _ wrong. 

Magnus is already opening a portal to Clary’s school when Alec returns with his boots on and bow in hand. There’s never a question of if they’re going to go, or when. Jace called Alec and Alec is going to go, that’s just how this works. They both know it and Magnus could never, and would never, fault him for dropping everything when his parabatai needs him. Especially not in a matter that may very well be life or death. 

They arrive in the same spot Magnus dropped Clary off at the night she got the memories of her life before her 18th birthday returned to her. It’s about a block away from her dorm and he and Alec both turn to backtrack towards the Institute knowing that’s most likely where Jace would’ve come from. 

The entire time Alec is on the phone with Isabelle, talking her through where they are and what they’re doing. 

“He just said ‘near Clary’s school’, no street name, nothing else. The fact that no one came across him yet or picked up his phone means he’s definitely not on a main street, so Magnus and I are looking down the alleyways nearby. With any luck we’ll find him and I’ll text you the address. Otherwise if you have any patrols you can spare in the area, send them. Now.” 

Alec hangs up with Isabelle and Magnus frowns. It’s not like him to bark orders at her like that, a definite sign of the strain he’s feeling, the stress of Jace’s unknown condition getting to him more than Alec would care to admit. 

“Alexander, he’s alive. And healing, right? You said so yourself. We just have to get to him before anyone else does. It’s going to be alright.” 

“I know. I know,” Alec mutters, shaking his head. “I just-- I should’ve been here. I hate that I wasn’t here.” 

“You can’t protect him 24/7. Even if you were in the city you wouldn’t have gotten here any faster than you did, or with any more information,” Magnus points out. And it’s true, even if Alec can’t see it right now wrapped in worry. 

They split up to cover twice as many alleys as they would otherwise, with Magnus portalling to the opening of each one to cover that much more ground. They’re three blocks away from the school when Magnus portals to the opening of an alley an immediately smells the stench of ichor in the air. 

“Alec!” he calls, not waiting for a reply before sprinting into the alley, throwing two small balls of magic against the brick wall for light while simultaneously putting up a glamour at either end so that any passing mundanes wouldn’t see the bloodbath he illuminated. 

There’s ichor  _ everywhere _ , at least three dead demons’ worth, and while most of it is on the brick around them some of it is eating through Clary and Jace’s outer layers as they both lay unconscious on the dirty ground. 

When Alec arrives Magnus watches as he moves towards Jace instinctively, checking for a pulse he knows will be here but not seeing the tension in Alec’s shoulders fade until he feels it for himself. Then he’s cataloguing the rest of his injuries with a heavy frown. 

Meanwhile Magnus, who moved himself to Clary’s side, sees the scratch down her leg and gives a quick probe of his magic, setting it to heal some of the damage done while wondering how she’s even still breathing after the demon blood entered her system. That’s when he notices it - the red mark on her neck where her scarf is pulled away... but not just any mark. An iratze. Had she drawn it on herself, or had Jace? Neither are conscious to answer and he raises his eyes in concern toward Alec, who spots the rune immediately and looks two seconds away from screaming in frustration. 

“Infirmary,” is all Alec says, and Magnus already has a portal swirling to life in front of them before the single word finishes. Magnus pulls the scarf back up to  cover Clary’s neck fully again before reaching down to pick her up in his arms while Alec lifts Jace, throwing the weight of his parabatai over his shoulder, already on the move towards the portal. They tumble into the main hall of the Institute just as Isabelle, Simon, and a handful of others are gearing up to leave. 

“By the Angel,” Isabelle breathes out, running forward to help support Jace on the side Alec isn’t holding up. Simon’s by Clary’s side even faster, aiding Magus in carrying her to the Infirmary. “Careful not to touch her skin,” Izzy warns Magnus, who is more than a little confused by the instruction but listens just the same, with no time to argue or question. 

It’s obvious from the claw marks scratched through both of their clothes where the injuries are. The whispers from the surrounding Shadowhunters in the Institute spread like wildfire. Magnus hears Jace and Clary’s name repeated over and over as they’re carried through the halls, and if anyone was unaware of Clary’s presence here earlier they certainly know about it now. 

It isn’t until they get into the Infirmary that Alec instructs everyone who isn’t essential personnel with top clearances to get out. Isabelle gives him a questioning look but nods to the Shadowhunters lingering in question. Only once they’re all gone does Alec nod to Magnus, and Magnus moves to take the scarf off of Clary’s neck - careful not to touch her skin as instructed - to reveal the iratze there. 

“ _ Dammit, Jace,” _ Isabelle curses, crossing over to Clary in a few quick strides.

“We found her like that,” Alec informs her. “I don’t know if Jace did it or she did, but with the poison in their systems it’s probably the only thing that kept her alive until we got there.” 

Both Jace and Clary are still unconscious but the moment they’re put into beds and their vitals tracked it’s clear that they’re both relatively stable and on the path to recovery. Magnus hangs back as much as he can, both because he knows that the Shdowhunters have it from here, and because this isn’t something he  _ or  _ Alec should be involved in. 

“They’re burning up,” one of the two nurses who remained behind says. She’s one of the Institute’s top medics and probably saved Alec’s life on more than one occasion. “From their bodies fighting off the poison.” 

The young woman is already moving to remove some of the layers of clothing from Clary when Isabelle stops her with a sharp, “No!” All eyes, Magnus’ included, turn to her in confusion and concern. 

“Gloves. Two pairs, and be careful not to touch her skin,” Izzy instructs further before turning back to look between where Alec hovers near Jace and where Magnus stands off to the side. “We think physical contact is how individual memories are coming back. I’m not sure if her being unconscious will matter or not, but better safe than sorry at this point.” 

“I think it’s a little too late for safe, don’t you?” Lydia’s voice chimes in, and Magnus looks over to see the familiar blonde make her way directly over to the beds. Magnus watched as Lydia’s discerning gaze fell on Clary’s neck, catching the immediate pull of tension in her shoulders and the way her hands clenched at her sides. 

“Of course he iratze’d her,” Lydia mutters, bringing her hands up to her face to rub against her forehead and down her temples. “I never should’ve taken this assignment for you,” Lydia sighs, this time her words aimed at Alec. 

“I never asked you to,” Alec quips back, clearly too focused on his injured parabatai to worry about Lydia being cross with him. It’s a dynamic between them Magnus has witnessed several times before during dinners and meetings with just the three of them, though there’s more of an edge to it now.  “But you know I would’ve done the same for you.” 

“Yes, the only difference being I don’t have two siblings who would’ve fought you at every turn and made every possible decision to make your assignment impossible.” 

“She was going to die,” Isabelle points out. “And we’ve been… better.” 

“If this is better than I’m glad I didn’t get to see what ‘worse’ would’ve looked like,” Lydia says. 

Magnus looks between them and decides that, as much as he’d like to remain out of the way and impartial, it might be better to put an end to this before it gets out of hand. 

“Let’s all take a step back for a moment, shall we?” he chimes in. “I don’t think bickering right now is going to do anyone any good, let alone those two.” 

It works for the time being at least, as all attention is back on Jace and Clary while their layers are removed. And that’s when they see it, watching as Clary’s jacket is removed to expose the three-quarter sleeve shirt she wears underneath: on the exposed skin are the impressions of the runes Clary once had. Magnus knows it’s probably safe to assume the ones hidden under clothing have returned as well. They’re nothing more than faint discolorations of her skin, shimmering with a golden tint, not the full marking of a rune like the iratze on her neck. The sight of them stills everyone in the room. 

“Oh no,” Lydia says, taking several steps closer. Magnus follows, this time not stopping until he’s right next to Clary’s bedside. He hovers his hands over her, allowing faint traces of icy blue magic to sweep over her arms where he can see the markings of runes. They burn under his magic, he can feel the heat of them rising up through the small space of air between her skin and his, though he’s careful not to touch her directly. Clary’s muscles jump and twitch under his magic, causing her to squirm in her bed with a restless tossing. He quickly pulls his hands back, allowing the magic to dissipate at the negative reaction. 

“They’re like an echo,” he says. “They’re not  _ quite _ there, but their potential energy is there. I think they may be manifesting on their own but it’s difficult to tell. If they’re going to stop here, or come back fully” 

“Is that even possible?” Alec questions. He’s still by Jace’s side, unmoving, but his gaze is on Clary now.  

“None of this should be possible,” Lydia points out. “But this? No, this should be  _ extra _ not possible. I don’t know what the Council is going to do with this-”    
  
“You can’t tell them!” Simon nearly shouts, and Magnus almost forgot Simon was even in the room with them with how silently he stood by Clary’s bedside until this moment. 

“I don’t have a choice!” Lydia shouts back, clearly exasperated. “I’ve covered up as much as I could until now, but this…” Magnus watches the way Lydia’s entire expression turns pained, torn between knowing every person in this room is going to hate her for turning Clary over to the Council in this state but knowing that this is something too big to keep from them. 

“They need to be aware of this,” Alec agrees, and Magnus is startled to hear his husband’s voice sounding in support of Lydia’s words. “Jace’s temperature is going down, but Clary’s is still spiking. We can’t touch her. We don’t know if  magic would help or make things worse. We aren’t equipped to handle this here and if we don’t find someone who is, who knows what’ll happen to her.” 

“That’s an awful lot of ‘we’s for someone who isn’t even supposed to be in New York right now,” Magnus says, an edge of warning in his voice. He knows that there’s no denying they were here but it isn’t too late to leave before things go any further. After the call they got they’d hardly be faulted for showing up, and so long as the people in this room could manage things from here they could slip out and avoid the worst of the scrutiny.

The others around them are silent, following Magnus’ lead and waiting for Alec’s reply. Perhaps this would’ve been better to question in a completely private setting but from the sound of Alec’s words there wasn’t going to be any more private moments for quite some time. 

“Go,” Lydia agrees. “You did your part by taking him back here. I’ll handle the rest.” 

Alec looks like he might agree with them when the hesitant voice of the nurse speaks up again. “You might want to see this before you go.” She’s staring at Jace with wide eyes from where she removed his winter coat, exposing the majority of his arms and neck in the simple t-shirt he had on underneath. 

Every rune on Jace is illuminated, shining a bright and bold golden instead of their normal black. Magnus watches the phenomena in cautious awe, wondering if this is because of Clary or something else entirely. The look Alexander and Isabelle share tells him that this isn’t the first time something like this has happened. 

Alec takes a step closer to Jace already shaking his head, and Magnus knows that look of resignation. He’s seen it more than enough times to know that Alec isn’t going anywhere now, and if Alec isn’t then neither is he. 

“I’ve been useless in Alicante since Jace ran into Clary that night,” Alec admits. “All I can feel is the stress and worry through our bond. At least if I’m here that’s one less thing I have to worry about.” 

“The Consul isn’t going to like that,” Lydia warns. 

“Then the Consul can order me back. Until then, I’m staying,” Alec insists. 

Magnus knows better than to try and convince him to go back home once his mind is made up, especially when it involves his family. Eyes turn to him next, first Lydia and then the others, and all Magnus can do is shrug. “You heard the man. We’re staying.” 

“Magnus, you don’t have to-” Alec starts, but Magnus cuts off his protest by holding up his hand to stop him.

“Of course I don’t. But as the warlock most intimately familiar with Clary and what she’s been through lately, I think it’d be best to keep me around, just in case.” He may not have the answers for what’s going on with Clary’s runes, or the particular angelic powers at play with her memories, but he’s the High Warlock of Alicante for a reason, and that reason isn’t just because he’s married to Alexander. He has a wealth of information in his head, and what he doesn’t already have he knows how to find. “I’m going to check in with Tessa, see if there’s anything about this that sounds familiar from the Spiral Labyrinth texts.” 

He excuses himself and goes into the hallway, but barely makes it half a dozen steps before Alec’s hand is on his shoulder. 

“Magnus, wait,” Alec says. Magnus can see the way he already leans back towards the Infirmary, the way being away from Jace right now is already weighing on him. “You don’t have to stay. We can call in Cat, or Lorenzo. Jace and Clary are going to be fine.” 

“Are they?” Magnus questions, eyebrow raised. Alec might be able to pass off that casual certainty in there with the others, but Magnus is actually a little offended that he’d try it here with him. “Because their runes are  _ glowing _ .” 

“Okay, fine. I don’t know. But I  _ do _ know how hard you’ve been working in Alicante to finally get the Council to stop questioning every decision you make. If you stay here with me after we both know we aren’t supposed to get involved…” Alec sighs, and Magnus feels that sigh in his soul because he knows that Alec is right. As much as Magnus hoped to convince Alec to have a bit more impartiality, the same goes for him. They both have more to lose here than either cares to admit, and yet when it comes to the people they call family they both know that there are definite blind spots in their self-preservation. 

Magnus is well aware of the trouble they all went through to keep his name as far away from all of this as possible. He’s still walking a thin line with his position in Alicante, still fighting twice as hard as anyone else there to get the amendments he proposes reviewed, and even harder to actually get them passed. Every step forward is a battle and he isn’t going to make things easier on himself by getting involved in all of this. 

But he also can’t imagine being anywhere else just then, especially not if Alexander is staying. 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head over me,” Magnus says finally, leaning in to place a quick kiss against Alec’s lips. “Not when there are two people in there who  _ actually _ need worrying over. Go. I’ll let you know what I hear from Tessa, and call me back if you need  _ anything _ .” 

Alec returns the kiss and only hesitates a second before nodding. “Alright. Thank you, Magnus.” 

They linger in the hallway a moment longer before Magnus turns and heads back down the hallway, listening to Alec’s echoing footsteps before they disappear behind the door of the Infirmary. 

Magnus waits until he’s outside to conjure up a portal to the Spiral Labyrinth, hoping his old friend won’t mind a surprise visit, and hoping things will go a lot smoother back at the Institute than he anticipates. 


	30. Part Thirty: Alec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec waits with the others for Jace and Clary to wake up, and a decision is made over their best chance at getting some answers for Clary.

Alec goes back into the Infirmary with a look of concern - not over Magnus, he knows that a trip to the Spiral Labyrinth isn’t something to worry about - but over the other things that are currently just out of his reach to control despite his presence here. 

Which seems to be absolutely everything. Jace and Clary are lying unconscious and partially glowing in the infirmary, Lydia is going to have to report so much more back to the Council than they ever originally planned, Jia is almost definitely going to become involved in all of this, and who knows the sort of strife he and Magnus are going to suffer at the hands of the Council back in Alicante for whatever role they end up playing in things here, since they explicitly promised to hang back due to an obvious bias toward the people involved. 

And here he is, being clearly biased, because honestly, he was a fool to ever think he could distance himself from something like this while Jace is involved. 

That was the first problem - if things remained just Clary, wandering New York on her own and finding out the odd fact or two about the Shadow World - Alec is certain his life would be a lot easier right now. But things that happen to Clary Fray never  _ stay  _ just Clary: much like when she first barreled into his life, she shows up and suddenly everyone Alec cares about is involved. Jace included. 

Which, like before, means Alec included as well. 

He isn’t particularly mad about it. He’s a little relieved to have an excuse to stay, not that he’d admit that to himself, or Magnus, and especially not to Lydia. Staying home and waiting for updates has never been something he’s good at, he just wishes his inevitable involvement didn’t result from his parabatai lying on a hospital bed. 

“How are they?” he asks the moment he gets back into the room. 

“Jace’s temperature seems to be evening out. There’s still traces of the poison in his system but I should have most of it cleared within the hour,” the nurse says. 

“You don’t seem particularly concerned about the glowing runes so I’m going to go out on a limb and say this isn’t news to you?” Lydia asks, her eyes still locked on that particular phenomenon. 

“I haven’t seen it like this before, but… it isn’t anything to be worried about.” Alec stalls. He doesn’t feel like this is his secret to tell, not to Lydia, not to anyone. When it became increasingly common knowledge that Clary could create runes due to the concentrated angel blood in her it didn’t take them long to figure out what Jace’s special ability was - and while he uses it to his advantage on hunts when he can, he never wanted it to be seen as cheating, or an unfair advantage given the preferential treatment already thrown at him the moment it was known he’s a Herondale. 

“And what about Clary’s?” Lydia questions. 

“That… I don’t know,” he admits. The faintly glowing returning runes, coupled with the spike of fever, leaves him more than a little anxious over Clary’s well-being. “Would it be so bad for her to get her runes back? She doesn’t have a stele, she can’t-” he starts, but stops just as quickly, because what if she  _ can  _ do things without the stele? Who knows what effect Jace’s touch might have in both the return of her memories as well as the return of her nephilim abilities? Alec sighs. “I don’t know,” he repeats, but this time without the qualifiers. 

He doesn’t know. None of them do. And that’s the biggest problem here. 

Alec watches Simon hover close to Clary, close enough to make him nervous, not that any of them are going to tell him to step away. “Careful, Si,” is all Alec says when Simon seems to gravitate a little too close, the hand he rests on the side of her bed residing dangerously close to her arm. Simon looks over at him defiantly, likely angry over his agreement with Lydia not too long ago, but he takes half a step backward just the same. 

“We have to find out what’s wrong with her,” Simon insists. “Her fever keeps spiking.” 

“Our best bet is taking her back to Alicante,” Lydia says again. “There are better resources there. Nephilim doctors and researchers who might know more about whatever’s going on here.” 

“The same people who were experimenting with Glorious?” Simon accuses. “People who would just as soon take everything away from Clary again, just when she got it back?” 

“Maybe removing the runes is the best-” 

“No!” Simon nearly shouts, and then winces when Alec looks over at him sharply. He’s seriously considering kicking Simon out until he can keep his cool when Simon adds quietly, “...I can’t lose her again.”  

“You won’t,” Alec promises. “Losing runes doesn’t necessarily mean losing memories. And she wouldn’t lose any memories from before her birthday, not again.”    
  
“Do you really think they’d derune her?” Isabelle asks, the fear in her eyes a clear indicator that she hates the idea as much as Alec does. 

“Who knows? Like Lydia said, this is all entirely unprecedented. But right now it doesn’t matter what happens to her if we can’t get her to stabilize.” Isabelle frowns at his words but steels herself and nods. 

 Alec turns his full attention back to the nurse who is darting back and forth between Jace and Clary, keeping tabs on their temperatures and other vitals. 

Feeling the eyes on her she stops and turns back to him. “I want to give her some healing potion we have from Catarina, something to aid the iratze, but I’m afraid of how it’ll react. The iratze is keeping her alive but it’s barely doing that. Either it, or she, is too weak.” 

If Alec had to guess he’d think it might have something to do with the rune being gone for so long… but he has no real idea, and guessing about something this vital seems like a bad idea. He eyes the potion in question and recognizes it almost immediately. 

“That’ll bring her fever down -- it’s safe for mundanes, right?” Alec saw Magnus make that potion more than once, and it’s one he used to give to his mundane clientele during the time he wasn’t the High Warlock of Brooklyn or Alicante. 

The nurse nods, and Alec looks between Lydia and Isabelle. “The potion should be safe. It’s cleared for mundane use, so it shouldn’t have any adverse effects with whatever’s going on with her rune.” 

“Are you sure?” Isabelle questions. 

“As sure as I can be,” Alec says, and no one in the room questions how sure that really is before he gives the go-ahead to the nurse to administer the liquid to Clary. 

They wait several agonizing minutes before the number on her temperature reading goes down one degree, and then another, and another. 

“Thank the Angel,” Isabelle sighs, and Alec watches his sister wrap her arms around Simon in relief, sinking against him into the motion. 

He doesn’t point out that Lydia has yet to notify anyone in Alicante about any of this, not even when they all fall into a tense silence, each taking a chair and waiting for Jace and Clary to wake up. 

Jace stirs first, nearly fifteen minutes later. The moment he’s conscious and aware of his surroundings the runes on his body stop glowing. “Clary-” he’s saying, and Alec isn’t surprised to find Jace’s focus already on her even while he’s waking up in a hospital bed himself. 

“She’s fine,” Alec reassures him, standing again. “You stay in that bed, and that’s an order.” 

“What are you doing here?” Jace questions, eyeing Alec warily, trying to decide how serious he is about the ‘order’. Alec sends him a focused glare to emphasize just how serious he is just then. 

“You called me before you passed out,” Alec reminds him. 

“I meant to call Iz,” Jace mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“I was wondering why you thought backup from halfway around the world was a better idea than your own home,” Isabelle says. 

“Remember anything else?” Lydia cuts in, also standing, and Alec can already tell she has no intention of sparing him her judgmental questioning just because he got injured. “Like, oh, I don’t know… drawing a rune on Clary?” 

Alec rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother fighting when Jace is out of bed in the blink of an eye, moving to Clary’s bedside. 

“Has she woken up yet?” Jace asks. 

“Not yet,” Alec supplies, immediately wanting to ease the flood of worry he feels from Jace. “Her fever broke and the iratze is helping fight the poison, just… slowly.”

“They came out of nowhere,” Jace says. “I wasn’t paying attention. I should’ve heard them, or saw them, but I didn’t. I couldn’t get there in time to save her.” 

“But if you didn’t-” 

“She grabbed my seraph blade when I dropped it and killed the thing herself.” 

So much for the ‘weakened angel blood’ theory, Alec thinks, if she’s using nephilim weapons without issue. Jace goes back to the beginning and gives a detailed account of what happened during the attack and it doesn’t take being parabatai for him to see the guilt and regret on his face when he gets to the part where he blacked out for just a few seconds, leaving Clary vulnerable. By the end of it Alec falls into a silence that mimics the rest of the room. 

It’s a lot to take in, and while it explains  _ what _ happened, it doesn’t do much for the  _ why _ that’s the real issue on the table here. 

“Were the demons after Clary?” Simon asks, making his way closer to her bed again even with nothing new to see there. “I mean this can’t just be totally random, can it? They found you two near her school, what if they know she’s there, alone and defenseless?” 

“There are demons all over the city, Simon. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Jace offers, but Alec isn’t buying it. He knows that Clary wanted to stay in school, that she wanted to keep doing normal things even while she figured the rest of this out, but as much as Jace wants to give Clary what she wants it probably isn’t what’s best for her right now. 

“She should stay here,” Isabelle suggests. “We can watch out for her. It’s safe here.” 

“What if I bring her to Alicante,” Lydia offers. “She won’t have as many memories to trigger there-” 

“-yeah, only nearly drowning in a lake and stabbing her father to death,” Jace mutters. 

“She wouldn’t be anywhere outside the city’s medical bay. Our best medical officers are there, we can figure out first hand exactly what’s going on-” 

“You mean  _ experiment _ on her? What, run tests like she’s a lab rat? Might as well give Aldertree his old job back-” 

“Listen, I had nothing to do with-” 

Alec’s head is spinning with the back-and-forth between Lydia and Isabelle, suggestions turning to arguments turning to bickering, and so much of his attention is on how to best diffuse the situation before it blows up any more than it already has that he doesn’t even notice Clary waking up until Jace is out of his bed and by her side. 

Clary’s hand immediately comes up to the rune on her neck, and then her eyes widen in shock at the glowing marks on her arms. Alec offers her the most reassuring smile he can manage, which he isn’t sure if very reassuring at all just then. 

“What’s wrong with me?” she asks, scrambling to sit up in the bed, staring at her own skin in horror. 

“Nothing’s wrong with you-” Jace starts, but sighs. “Okay, something is a little off, and we don’t know what. But you’re alright.”    


“Does this look  _ alright _ to you?” Clary demands, holding out her arms so fast Jace has to take a step back to avoid accidentally touching them. 

“Do they hurt?” Alec asks, Isabelle argument with Lydia already forgotten now that Clary’s awake again. 

“A little? It’s more… uncomfortable. But  _ everywhere _ .” Clary looks like she might cry, and Alec can’t imagine what it must feel like to have some foreign almost-magic you can’t remember alive within you, half-there-, half-not. The room is quiet again at that until Clary says, “I heard you arguing. That place you mentioned-” Clary looks at Lydia expectantly. 

“Alicante,” Lydia offers again. 

“Right. That one. Will the people there really be able to help figure out what’s happening to me?” Clary doesn’t even sound hopeful, just warily resigned. 

“You don’t want to go there, Clary,” Isabelle speaks up again, but Clary cuts her off before anyone else can. 

“I don’t,” Clary admits. “But I need to know what’s happening to me. And if no one here knows…” Clary looks around expectantly, as if challenging any one of them to give her the answers she seeks. Her eyes linger on Jace who looks like he wants to argue, but can’t, because he has nothing new to offer, either. 

“We don’t,” Alec admits, filling the silence that fell again. “But the people in Alicante might. I can make sure you’re taken care of there. No experiments you don’t agree to, nothing unsafe.” It’s a promise he feels confident making, not just for Clary’s sake but to ease Simon and Lydia and Jace’s minds as well. “This is the second time you woke up in this infirmary and I’m not eager to just keep trying to cover things up until there’s a third.” 

They tried. They really did. Alec wishes that it’d been enough to keep her here and watch over her but that obviously isn’t working and this is well beyond any of them to properly handle now, himself included.

“Then I’ll go to Alicante.” Clary says the words with a surprising amount of conviction. “I need answers. And if I can’t get them here, I’ll go there. And if I can’t get them there…” 

“We’ll figure it out,” Jace promises, turning immediately to Alec. “I’m coming with.” 

“Me too,” Simon says, leaving Alec to look between the two of them with his lips pursed tight. It’d be easier without them, for very obvious reasons, but he also knows well enough by now to know that Clary will be much more cooperative and receptive if at least one of them is there. 

Alec looks to Lydia, who frowns but gives a helpless shrug. “I’ll make some calls,” she says, and much like Magnus had leaves the room without another word. 

Suddenly Alec finds himself in exactly the position he was meant to avoid in all of this. While Jace and Simon stand on either side of Clary’s bed, doing their best to comfort her in the aftermath of the attack, Isabelle comes up to him with a concerned look. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Alec,” she says. 

Alec sighs. “So do I.” 


	31. Part Thirty-One: Lydia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia gives Jia an update on the current situation, and pleads her case to continue to work with Clary in Alicante.

Lydia sends off a fire message first to warn the Consul that she’s going to be arriving shortly. It’s mostly to stall - she isn’t looking forward to the conversation she’s about to have, or any of the implications that go along with it. There’s no doubt in her mind that she’s in for a long lecture over the job she was sent to New York to do and how out of control it got under her watch, whether she’s directly to fault for it or if the circumstances were truly out of her control, et cetera, et cetera.

The only thing that might save her some strife is the fact that Jia is much more likely to assume that it’s the Lightwoods involvement in all of this that set it awry, but even that Lydia isn’t willing to fall back on, even if it benefits her. They did nothing wrong - and neither did she - and hopefully the fact that she’s going to bring back a semi-willing Clary will be enough to get some of the heat off the rest of her report. 

She could just show up but instead she waits for the message to return to her from Alicante saying that Jia set aside time to meet with her immediately, given the urgent nature of their business. 

Wonderful. 

This isn’t at all how Lydia planned on arriving back in Alicante. Honestly, she planned on spending some time at the New York Institute, allowing the spike of interest surrounding Clary’s sudden reappearance fade the longer she had nothing interesting to report, and then return back to make use of the probably infinite favors Alec would owe her for covering him and his siblings while he was told to stand down. 

It was, looking back, perhaps a little idealistic, especially knowing Clary was at the heart of it. 

“Come in,” Jia calls before Lydia can even knock, and she suppresses a shudder of anticipation. It’s like she can  _ sense _ her desire to turn back around before anyone even notices she’s here.  How does she do that? 

“Hello, Consul. Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice,” Lydia says, hiding every last one of her nerves behind a confident smile and eyes that lock onto Jia’s and refuse to shift away. This isn’t her first one-on-one with Jia, and with any luck it won’t be her last; Lydia knows how to play this game. 

“Well, your message sounded urgent. Has something gone wrong?” Jia’s tone implies that she already knows the answer. 

“Not… exactly.” Lydia starts, taking the seat Jia motions to across the desk from her. It’s a long enough story that sitting is the best option, and the moment she’s comfortable she eases into the details of the situation. Not all of them, of course, but just the ones that are pertinent to the problem at hand with a pretty heavy focus on the return of Clary’s runes. 

Lydia didn’t think it was possible for Jia to look any more disapproving than she had when Lydia first entered, but is now proven wrong as the Consul’s lips pursed together so tightly they practically vanish from her face entirely. 

“How could you allow this to happen?” Jia demands, and Lydia deflates slightly in her chair. She expects this and yet it still hits her with a wave of disappointment. She may not always agree with the ways of the Council and the Clave as a whole but it’s still her job to represent them when sent out as an envoy, and Lydia strives to be the best at everything she does, even this. A failure is still a failure, no matter how fundamentally she believes otherwise. 

“We kept someone with her at all times - you know as well as I that demon attacks are unpredictable. It isn’t as if she was left alone to fend for herself,” Lydia defends. 

“No. If she were left on her own then she wouldn’t have had access to a Seraph Blade, or a stele to activate runes she has no business possessing anymore.” Jia points out. 

“You’re right. If she were left on her own she’d be dead,” Lydia counters, fighting the urge to question whether or not that outcome might actually be the preferable one to Jia at this point. It’d certainly save the Nephilim at large a lot of problems. Jia opens her mouth to reply but closes it again without speaking, temporarily at a loss for words on a diplomatic reply to that point. 

Without missing a beat Lydia continues, eager to keep her nerve and slight advantage while she can. “Clary’s agreed to come back with me here, to Alicante. She’s willing to have our medical team look over her and I have no reason to believe that she won’t cooperate fully for us to figure out exactly what forces are at play with the return of her memories, and potentially her abilities.” 

Jia’s expression brightens up considerably at that news. “And how did you manage to come to that agreement?” 

Lydia bites her lower lip. “She made only one very reasonable demand in return - she wishes to have Jace and the Daylighter come with her.” 

It isn’t  _ technically _ a problem for either of them to be there. Jace is a Nephilim, after all, and Downworlders have been welcome within Alicante’s borders for some time now. The problem is the fact that before Clary even arrives they’re caving to her ‘demands’, as Lydia has no doubt Jia will see the situation. Still, the pros heavily outweigh the cons and she waits for Jia to think it over and hopefully come to the same conclusion. 

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Jia begins, and Lydia sighs lightly, trying to hide the annoyance from her expression. This should be simple. Clary could be fighting them tooth and nail on this, it could’ve involved the Silent Brothers’ involvement, or trying to call upon the Angels themselves for council, or weeks to months of surveillance and wasted efforts. She’ll be damned if she managed to get not only Clary, but Isabelle and the others, to see this as the best option only to have Jia shoot herself in the foot over a solid plan because she’s being stubborn.

It’s only now that Lydia realizes how invested she’s become in all of this - not just because it’s the task assigned to her, but because of how much she cares for those involved. 

“I’ll continue to run lead. I’ll take full responsibility for Clary Fray during her stay here,” Lydia offers. “She trusts me now. That’s going to be worth more than anything else until we get a clear answer on things. And she trusts Jace and Simon. The more comfortable she is about all of this the more we’re going to get from her.” 

She hates offering the situation up like that, like Clary is just some means to an end, something to extract information and experiences from, but to most of the Council that’s going to be how they look at this and Lydia’s only goal is to get them to agree. She can figure the rest out later. 

“Fine. They’re not to interfere in any way - and inform them that the moment they do they’ll be sent back to New York and not allowed back until I personally say so - but Simon Lewis and Jace Herondale may accompany Clarissa here. I’ll arrange for accomodations for the three of them.” 

Lydia nods, holding back the smile she instinctively feels on her face. It wouldn’t do to look too self-satisfied over this, not with so many variables still up in the air about exactly what the plan is once Clary gets here. 

“As for you, Miss Branwell,” Jia continues after a sigh of resignation. “It’d take too long to start over with rebuilding Clarissa’s trust, you’re right. So long as you continue to make headway with her, and she listens to your instructions, you may continue to run point on this from here on out. But know that once you’re here there are going to be infinite eyes on you and the Fray girl. One misstep with this and I won’t hesitate to pull you off and put someone else on. In fact,” Jia pauses, considering something, and Lydia doesn’t like the look on her face over whatever that thought is. “I’m going to have Aline coordinate things from here on out. I want her on the same page as you from now on.” 

Lydia could scream in frustration over that, because she sees it for exactly what it is: Jia wants her daughter in the loop so that the moment Lydia slips up she can slide another Penhallow into things and essentially pull all of the strings herself. It’s no secret that Jia’s been grooming Aline to eventually take over for her. Lydia isn’t sure how Aline herself feels about it - the two of them aren’t exactly friends, even if they’re on good casual terms. Perhaps they’re about to get a  _ lot _ closer. 

“Of course, Consul Penhallow. I have no issues working alongside Aline on things here,” Lydia agrees carefully. She knows that Jia’s only doing this because she expects Lydia to fail, sooner or later, and Lydia is determined to prove her wrong. 

This is just another variable to figure out: perhaps Alec has some more insight on how much Aline can be trusted and how much she’s going to report every time Lydia so much as sneezes back to her mother. Lydia knows that Alec is on good terms with Aline, at least as far as appearances go. Given her own secret friendship with him, however, she knows how incorrect those outside appearances can be. 

“I’ll go back to New York and update them on the situation. We’ll be ready whenever you send word.” 

Jia nods and dismisses Lydia without any more discussion, and Lydia wastes no time getting the hell out of that office and portaling herself back to New York. 

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” Lydia announces immediately upon re-entering the Infirmary. Clary and Jace were both kept there for observation the duration of her trip to Alicante, and Simon remains diligently by Clary’s side. Alec and Isabelle aren’t in the room but she’ll fill them in later. 

“I’m not going anywhere without-” Clary starts, defiant as ever, but Lydia holds up a hand to silence her. 

“Good news first, then. Simon and Jace get to come to Alicante,” Lydia tells her, and watches with a small smile at the way the tension melts from the three of them as relief immediately follows the news. 

“So what’s the bad news?” Jace has to ask. 

“They’re going to be watching us all like a hawk. One false move and Jia will throw both of you out before you know what’s happening,” she says to Jace and Simon. “I’m still in charge of this… for now. If anything goes wrong, if  _ any  _ of you doing anything stupid, it’s my neck on the line. And I don’t think you’ll like whoever they bring in after me.”  Lydia frowns. “I meant what I said earlier but I can only protect you if I’m there. So please, for the love of Raziel, no more impulsive decisions?” 

“We’ll do our best,” Jace promises, but that hint of a teasing smile on his face is enough to tell her not to take her eyes off him for a second. She knows that asking these three in particular to not be impulsive is asking a lot, but she has to try. And so do they, or else this will never work. 

“Then go back a bag and meet back here. We need to be ready for whenever Jia calls us in.” 

Lydia watches them go before sinking down into a chair, just for a few minutes, to collect herself before she has to go fill in Isabelle. It’s a lot, all at once, and if she thought her assignment here at the Institute was a struggle she can only imagine what’s in store for her in Alicante. 

She knows she can handle it, whatever it is.

If she messes this up then there’s no chance of her getting the appointment at the Lisbon Institute she’s been working towards all this time. 

She’s going to make this work, because she has to. Failure is simply not an option. 

  
  



	32. Part Thirty-Two: Aline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aline is tasked with 'assisting' Lydia, and finds herself very determined to actually take a back seat this time and not live up to the reputation her name often gets around Alicante.

“Aline, I’d like a word with you.” Her mother’s voice reaches her through the door to her room where she was  _ supposed _ to be relaxing on her day off. She should’ve known better than to think that could possibly last a full 24 hours, not when your mother’s the Consul. Normally it wouldn’t bring about a feeling of dread but knowing she just got out of a meeting with Lydia Branwell regarding everything going on with Clary Fray, well, whatever needs her attention can’t be good. 

Closing the notebook she’d been writing in Aline tucks it under a stack of papers in her bottom drawer before turning in her chair and sitting up imperceptibly straighter. “Come in,” she calls out. 

Jia opens the door but only takes a single step inside - so this is going to be quick, then. 

“We’re going to be getting some visitors. I’m setting them up in spare rooms near your own. Miss Branwell is bringing Clary Fray back to Alicante with her for some testing, it seems as if her runes are returning to her as well as her memories now. We’re going to assign some of our best medical personnel to this one - it isn’t natural, and there’s no telling what side-effects there may be.” 

Aline only half-listens to everything after the bit about the runes - this isn’t the first time her mother has gone on a rant to her over how ‘unstable’ Clary is, how ‘unnatural’ and ‘against the will of the Angels’ everything happening is. 

“You said ‘visitors’, plural?” Aline questions, circling back to the most important bit of information. 

“Yes. Jace Wayland and Simon Lewis will be accompanying them. I want you to keep a close eye on them -  _ all _ of them,” Jia adds. “I get the feeling Lydia hasn’t disclosed all of the details she’s privy to. Regardless, I’d feel better with your eyes on this as well. I’ve already warned her that, should she step out of line,  you’ll be taking over the assignment.” 

Aline slumps back in her chair and groans. 

“What?” Jia demands sharply. 

“You  _ know  _ what,” Aline sighs. “I told you to stop doing that.” 

“Doing what?” Jia asks, crossing her arms over her chest. Aline wonders if it’s even worth getting into at this point but decides why not, it’s her day off, she has some time to kill. 

“Doing  _ that _ . Using me as a threat. It’s bad enough people think I get special treatment on my own assignments. I don’t need them to think I’m trying to steal other people’s assignments, too.” 

“But you’re not,” Jia points out. 

“I know that, and you know that, but you know who doesn’t? Literally everyone else, mom. Literally everyone else thinks I go home and whine until I get all the missions I want. Saying I’m on something to ‘keep an eye on it’ is like… like an assignment death warrant around here.” 

“Well I’m sorry I want the best of the best on these,” Jia huffs. Aline knows that isn’t it. She knows she just wants a spy on the inside, and that now she’ll have Jia knocking on her door for any gossip or signs of insubordination at least once a day from here on out. 

“I’m just saying - you have plenty of other people to choose from. It doesn’t always have to be me.” 

“...you’re not turning it down, are you?” Aline looks up at her mother and is so very tempted to do just that. She knows that Lydia doesn’t even want to be an envoy at this point, she’s just trying to make enough connections to secure her spot as the Lisbon Institute Head when the position opens up, and Aline doesn’t want to make things any more difficult by hovering over her the entire time. 

Then again, if she says no then Aline has no doubt her mother will simply put someone else she has in her pocket on the assignment. And if the medical staff will be involved, there’s likely to be more than a few run-ins with Helen, so… 

“No. I’ll work with Lydia. Just stop using me as a passive aggressive threat, please.” 

“You know that’s not what I’m-” Jia starts, but at the glare Aline shoots her she falls silent. “Fine. You don’t need to do anything today but first thing tomorrow morning you’re meeting with Lydia. Enjoy the rest of your day off.” 

Aline isn’t sure how she’s supposed to do that now, not with her new assignment hanging over her head like this, but she manages to put on some music and paint her nails and read a few chapters of a book Helen gave to her as a present before turning in early for the long day ahead of her tomorrow. 

\---

“Aline,” Lydia greets her evenly. Aline watches Lydia give a small, polite smile but the way her hands are clasped behind her back as she stands is all the body language Aline needs to read to know this isn’t the most friendly of greetings. 

“Lydia,” Aline returns, hoping the smile on her own face is much more genuine. She looks around for a second, making sure they’re alone, before continuing. “Look, I’m sorry about my mother. She can be…” Aline pauses, trying to find the nicest possible word for what she actually wants to say before settling on “...difficult.” 

Lydia huffs out a laugh through her nose at that. 

“Whatever she said to you, I’m not here to sabotage things, alright? Anything you need for this to go smoothly, just say the word, okay?” 

Aline knows they have a bit of a history, mostly because her mother would give her the assignments Lydia continually gunned for whether she wanted them or not, and it left a bit of animosity between them. Not proper rivals, not the way Alec and Lydia went at it, but enough that Aline wants to clear the air before they actually have to work  _ together _ on something for the first time. 

Lydia levels her with a narrowed-eye look, probably searching for the hint that Aline is just trying to get her to let her guard down. 

“Sure,” Lydia agrees finally. “Though fair warning, I’m not sure there’s anything in the entire Shadow World either of us could ask for to make this go smoothly.” 

Now it’s Aline’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, I read the report this morning. She was  _ glowing _ ?” 

“Still is,” Lydia says. “Not a lot, and she insists on wearing a full turtleneck to cover it so people stop staring, but it definitely isn’t normal. So far only the iratze on her neck that Jace drew is a solid black.” 

Aline nods, a million theories running through her head. What if they draw over the others, would they stabilize, too? Or are they different now because they only showed up after the iratze was drawn on, while the iratze was a total blank canvas of sorts? 

“Well, at least this won’t be as boring as everything else my mother usually throws me on,” Aline admits. “I’ve already reached out to Helen to see if she has any theories but of course, once her and the team take a look at things it’ll be easier to-” Aline starts, only to stop abruptly at the look on Lydia’s face. 

“-easier to do whatever you want them to do. Because this is your assignment and I’m already overstepping.”  _ Fuck _ , Aline curses herself mentally. She really needs to stop doing that. At this point it’s rare she isn’t the lead on the things she’s assigned and she’s already playing into all of the terrible assumptions people make of her. 

Lydia seems to see she’s trying, at least, and her expression softens. “It’s fine. I’m not overly familiar with the scientific teams anyway, so it’s nice to have a trusted point of contact there.” 

“There’s no one I trust more,” Aline promises, and the smile that crosses her face at the thought of Helen is probably a lot more lovesick than she would like to display in a professional setting, but she just can’t help it. It seems to win her some favor with Lydia who seems to give Aline the first genuine smile since they first met that morning. 

Aline knows that her relationship with Helen isn’t a secret, it hasn’t been for a year now, and despite a few rough patches it looks like the two of them are only growing closer and gaining traction. It’s great for their personal lives, obviously, but it also helps when they need to work together - despite Alec’s constant ‘researching’ jokes any time the two of them are on an assignment together. She’s positive he’ll never let her live that down. 

The doors to the side of them open and Clary, Simon, and Jace step into the room to join them. Aline almost forgot that they were waiting for them - Clary and Simon got a simple run-down on how things work in Alicante, some basic do’s and don’ts, and while Jace could’ve waited outside with her and Lydia he insisted on staying with Clary. She’s hardly surprised. 

“You know, considering the fact that Clary’s the one who beat  _ me _ up the last time we met, I hardly think it’s her who needs the bodyguard here,” Aline jokes, trying to lighten some of the immediate tension she feels now that they’re all in one place together. 

“...I did  _ what?”  _ Clary asks, eyes wide. Aline takes one glance at her, eyes full of fear and confusion, just a tiny little thing nearly drowning in her black turtleneck, and realizes for the first time how very different she is from that moment over a year ago. 

“I see not all of those memories are back yet,” Aline observes. She read the report over but wonders how much Clary really does remember. 

“Sorry,” Clary says in an off-handed tone that leaves Aline with the distinct impression she’s said it enough lately that it’s starting to lose meaning and she isn’t  _ actually _ sorry. “Don’t remember you at all.” 

“I didn’t expect you to. Besides our one… unfortunate encounter, we didn’t really know one another. Probably for the best.” At least it means Aline has no personal stake in this. In fact, glancing around the room and thinking back to all the names in the report, she may be the only actually unbiased presence here. 

Lovely. 

“Anyway, let’s get you settled in. We’re going to be here for a few days at least so you each have your own room. If you’d like anything brought here from home give me a list and I’ll do what I can to get it here.” Aline almost continues on in her usual ‘here’s how things are going to go’ speech but catches herself and stops herself there, nodding to Lydia to continue with whatever she wants to say. 

“Right. I’ll show you all to your rooms, and we’ll take… an hour, before heading down to one of our medical centers for a preliminary examination. For good measure, because all of this happened after Jace drew the rune on you and you were  _ both _ glowing for a little while, we’re going to have you both looked at if that’s alright.” Even though the sentence sounds like it should be a question Lydia says it in a tone which makes it very clear that it isn’t actually optional. 

“Sure. No harm in a physical to remind everyone what a perfect specimen of Shadowhunter Physique I am,” Jace agrees with a smirk and a not-so-casual stretch of his arms that just so  _ happened _ to flex his muscles, an action that leaves both Clary and Simon rolling their eyes. Watching the three of them, Aline almost forgets that Clary doesn’t completely remember all of them. Then she sees the way Jace looks like he wants nothing more than to reach over and grab her hand as they start to walk, catches the way he has to pull himself back, and remembers why they’re all here in the first place. 

It’d be easier for him to distance himself, yet here he is, by her side just the same. Aline wonders if she’d be strong enough to do the same for Helen if they were in that position and decides very quickly that she’d rather not even consider something so tragic. 

“Clary, Simon, Jace,” Lydia says, stopping at the first of three doors, pointing down the row as she says each name. “These are yours. I’ll be back around in about an hour once we sort out a few logistics. Try not to do too much damage before then.” 

Aline wonders how much of that comment is meant to be a joke and how much is an actual plea - knowing Jace, at least, it’s probably a solid 50/50. Though she’s tempted to stay and get to know this new Clary a little better, Clary is very determined to not make any direct eye contact with her after that comment earlier and the clear history between them, however brief. 

So instead she follows Lydia back out of the living quarters and shows the way down to the medical rooms, shooting off a quick text to Helen to let her know that they’re on their way. 

Aline is aware of the glances turning their way as they walk, and she can tell Lydia sees them too by the way she walks a little quicker and holds herself a little taller. “Ignore them,” Aline says quietly. “I did my best to make sure everyone pulled for this will be on your side.” 

“And what side is that?” Lydia questions, eyebrow raised. 

Aline looks a little guilty but decides to be honest. “My mother  _ may have _ inferred that you’re being soft on Clary. Not just you, but pretty much everyone so far. I believe she called it ‘Sympathy in the face of uncertain ruin’ in a moment of complete melodrama.” Aline shrugs. “Anyway, this isn’t the first time I dealt with the Lightwoods ignoring proper procedures to coddle Fray, but... Maybe they were right. Not that we’re going to coddle her, this is going to be far from easy, but everyone here  _ should _ be a normal humane amount of sympathetic.” 

Lydia seems surprised by this, evident by the fact that she’s speechless. 

“What? I may be cold on occasion, but I’m not unnecessarily cruel.” 

“She trusts me,” Lydia says suddenly. “It isn’t that I’m being soft. But she trusts me, and I told her I’d look out for her. She’s scared, Aline. Terrified. She tries not to let it show, but… she is.” 

Aline nods. “I know. I could tell a bit earlier. She’s resilient, though. She’ll get through.” 

There’s no need to ask around to where they need to go - Helen Blackthorn is waiting to greet the pair of them the moment they get off of the elevator with a smile on her face. Aline doesn’t hesitate before taking a few quick steps forward and into Helen’s arms for an embrace and a quick, chaste kiss. 

“Helen, this is Lydia,” Aline turns to introduce them. 

“Nice to meet you, Lydia,” Helen says, holding out a hand in greeting. 

Lydia takes it and smiles back. “Pleasure’s all mine. I’ve heard a lot of good things about the work you’ve been doing here.” 

“Yes, well, I have plenty to make up for,” Helen points out. “It’s nice to be working towards the full inclusion and support of Downworlders, rather than…” 

She doesn’t have to finish that sentence for them all to know she’s referring to the work she did with Aldertree on the Heavenly Fire project, not that anyone faults her for it. She didn’t know what he was really doing there - no one did, until it was almost too late. 

Aline reaches out and gives Helen’s hand a quick squeeze and Helen changes the topic quickly. 

“Anyway, I have everything all set up down here for the preliminary examinations. Did Jace agree to one as well?” Helen questions. 

Aline, biting back the urge to answer on her own, once more forces herself to let Lydia do the talking. 

“Yes, he has,” Lydia confirms, and Helen beams.

“Perfect! I was hoping he would. At least then we’d have  _ something _ to compare Clary’s data to when we get it.” Helen explains. “I got a small team signed off for this so I’m ready whenever you are.” 

Helen, already taking cues from Aline stepping back, speaks looking at Lydia primarily. “Alright. I’d like for you to show me around a bit, explain some of the procedures before Clary and the others get down here. Do you mind?” 

Helen shakes her head. “Not at all, I’d be happy to.” 

“Great. Aline, could you go bring them down while we do that?” Lydia asks, her tone casual, but eyes fixed on Aline until she replies.  

If this is a test, a challenge of whether or not Aline really is going to take direction instead of giving it for a change, she isn’t about to argue over an order so trivial. 

“Sure. Be right back,” Aline says, already turning to head back the way they arrived and ignoring the arched eyebrow she catches Helen giving her, or the slight smirk on her girlfriend’s lips.

A minute later she gets a text: 

**Helen: I thought I was the only one who could boss you around like that ;)**

Aline shakes her head and pockets her phone again, walking the rest of the way in silence until she gets to Clary’s door and knocks. 

“Come on out, Fray. It’s your time to shine.” 

Clary opens the door with a frown, brows furrowed. “That isn’t funny,” Clary huffs, tugging the sleeves of the black turtleneck down further, careful to keep her distance from everyone else. 

“It was a  _ little  _ funny,” Simon laughs, coming out of the room behind her followed by Jace. 

“Wow, they weren’t kidding about you three sticking together here, were they? Should’ve just got you all bunk beds,” Aline observes. 

“Ha-Ha,” Jace says with a dry tone. “Let’s just hope this crackshot team of scientists you got lined up are worth their weight in adamas.” 

Aline doesn’t comment on that as she leads the way back down to the medical rooms. It’s only been a morning and she’s starting to see where her mother’s worry is coming from - she’s quickly realizing that none of them know what they’re getting into here, probably not even Helen and the others, b ut Aline has the utmost faith in her girlfriend to be the first to find out. 


	33. Part Thirty-Three: Helen & Tessa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen makes sure everything is ready for her group to begin the preliminary examination of Clary, and Tessa gets a visit from an old friend looking for some information.

Helen is all smiles until the moment Aline gets into the elevator and the doors close behind her. Once her girlfriend is out of sight the act drops and she immediately dons a concerned crease in her brow, making her way to one computer to scroll through a page of data transferred over from the Institute, and then another for some test set-ups. 

She tries to look much more calm and collected than she feels about the gravity of the task in front of her, silently cursing agreeing to help Aline out with it at all. There was hardly any time to prepare, to vet the best team, to hold more than one meeting overnight with as many people as she could scrounge up to bounce ideas off of and still get enough sleep to have the ability to function today for the actual procedures.

“Everything alright?” Lydia asks, glancing over at her. She seemed content enough to look around for a while but now seems to have focused in on Helen again. 

“Yeah, it’s fine. This is just  _ a lot _ to throw together so last minute. The last time I worked on a project this big we had years of data to work with. But this?” Helen shakes her head, the strands of long blond hair she doesn’t have pulled back brushing the sides of her neck with the movement. 

“Nervous about getting in on the ground floor?” Lydia questions, and it’s only then that Helen remembers who she’s talking to here. She’s essentially admitting she has no idea what she’s doing to the person running the show on this one and tries to backtrack quickly. 

“No. Just… making sure I have everything in order on my end. We have Shadowhunters with a lot more medical experience on the team, they’ll probably do most of the trailblazing.” There. That sounds a lot better, Helen thinks. She isn’t even sure how much of this work she’ll be doing after these preliminary physicals and tests, not that she isn’t excited just to be on the project at this point. She knows she’s still young, she knows there are plenty of people more qualified to be here than her, so she’d determined to prove that giving her a spot on the small medical team wasn’t a mistake.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Lydia offers. “I’m sure the others all have their strong points, but I’ve seen the stuff you’ve worked on this past year since you left Project Heavenly Fire. Medical might not be your background but you know your way around coordinating an operation-” 

“She sure does,” comes Aline’s voice sounds from the other end of the room. Helen spins around in her seat - she’d been so focused she didn’t even hear the elevator doors open, and judging by the momentary surprise that crosses Lydia’s features neither had she. 

Helen just rolls her eyes fondly as Aline approaches, standing from the computer she’s sitting behind to greet the group. 

“Nice to see all of you again,” Helen greets them all with an easy smile. “Jace,” she says, and then with a wink to Simon continues with, “Mr. Russo.” 

Simon laughs. It’s not that their original meeting is anything light or humorous, but they can joke about some aspects of it at least - like Simon’s fake name. Even though Simon said that day as he left that he owed her 

for giving him the last of the Heavenly Fire samples, she has to admit that they’re probably even. She owes him a great deal for exposing what was really going on there and giving her a chance to stop it before she was part of something even more tragic that it already was. 

“And Clary,” Helen says finally, turning to face the redhead. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Helen Blackthorn, I’m going to be helping you out through this, okay?” 

Helen doesn’t reach out for a handshake, she knows the rules. No direct skin contact, especially not for anyone with a personal connection to Clary. Though they only met briefly it’s more than Helen would be willing to risk. 

Not that Clary leaves much to risk - wearing jeans tucked into boots, a turtleneck that goes up to her chin and pulling her hands up into the sleeves so they aren’t even visible, there’s not much left of her exposed to potential brushes of skin. Her eyes, however, are still uncovered, and Helen can see that no matter how brave a face she puts on there’s a nervousness there. 

“Did we know each other too?” Clary asks, glancing between Simon and her, catching that bit of familiarity at the inside joke. Helen was trying to play off the introduction as natural but of course Clary would assume if Helen knows Simon and Jace then she probably knows her, too. 

“Not closely. We met for a few minutes once or twice.” Helen thought of the days those chance meetings were - here, in Alicante, with the world burning down around them, and at Magnus and Alec’s wedding - and can’t believe it’s been over a year since they happened.

Clary only nods at that information. 

“Okay. Simon, if you don’t mind, we’re just going to have you wait off to the side here.” Helen adds quickly when Simon looks ready to argue, “You can provide all the moral support you want after the confidential bits are over.”

Helen watches Simon defleate a bit at that, taking a step back towards the waiting area. 

“It’ll be fine, Simon. It’s just an exam. Right?” Clary asks, turning to face Helen. 

“Right. We aren’t just going to jump right in with tests without knowing more about what’s going on. Think of this as a routine physical,” she says, hoping to ease everyone’s minds. 

“Except I’m literally glowing,” Clary mutters. 

“And nothing about this is  _ routine _ ,” Jace adds unhelpfully. 

Helen sighs. “You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?” 

Jace laughs. “When have I ever?” But Clary has the decency to look a little apologetic. 

“Sorry. I know you’re just trying to help. And I agreed to come here. The whole thing just has me on edge,” Clary admits. 

“I totally get that,” Helen reassures her. “C’mon, you’re with me. Jace, follow Thompson over there.” 

They separate, going into a quiet, private room. It’s just Helen and Clary for a moment before another woman, mid-forties with pitch black hair, joins them almost immediately. Helen grabs a pair of gloves and passes another to her. 

“I’m Madeline, Clary. I’m going to be one of the doctors working with you. Let’s get some answers, shall we?” Helen was always fond of Madeline, it’s one of the reasons she agreed to help despite not knowing much about what’s going on. Madeline always did what needed to be done, she didn’t waste time or sugarcoat anything, and Helen appreciated that. She’s so used to people tiptoeing around her for what she is, but the first thing Madeline ever said to her was that she didn’t care if Helen was part Seelie, and unlike others who said that in the past, Helen believed her. 

“I’d love some answers,” Clary agrees, and very slowly takes the turtleneck off to reveal a black tank top underneath. Still, even with just her arms and chest exposed the effect is immediate - there’s a soft glow radiating from the markings on her skin in the shape of runes. 

Helen has to quiet the breath she sucks in from being a proper gasp because that wouldn’t be professional, but  _ still _ , it’s a sight to see. 

They run through the usual questions first: family medical history, known health issues, drug use… and then the questions turn Nephilim-specific. 

“So, you know what the runes do, don’t you?” Helen double-checks. She read over Clary’s file on what she remembers and doesn’t remember about half a dozen times but she’ll feel better hearing it directly from Clary. 

“Sort of. I know what they do in general, and what some of them do specifically, but not all of them,” Clary admits. “The memories I have are more about people and moments than the whole… specifics of demon hunting stuff.”

“Alright. So you know when the runes are activated they alter your abilities and perceptions. So are any of these activated right now, or since Jace put the iratze on you? Any heightened vision, or strength, or speed?” Helen asks. 

Clary thinks for a moment then shakes her head. “No. It feels weird, but nothing like that feels any different than usual.” 

“Weird how?” 

Clary looks down at the runes. “Like there’s something just under the surface of my skin? Like a tingling?” She shakes her head. “I can’t describe it. But it hasn’t stopped since this happened.” 

Madeline writes all of this down in a notebook she has in her hands, pen moving quickly as Helen continues to ask questions and Clary answers. They’re also recording this to go over later to make sure they don’t miss a single thing. Even the smallest detail right now could make or break whatever work they’re doing. 

They run a vision test and a quick strength test, but both back up Clary’s claim that the runes aren’t activated. 

“Is that good?” Clary asks, and Helen glances at Madeline. 

“Honestly?” Madeline asks back. 

“Yes. I don’t want  you to lie to make me feel better. I want to know what the fuck is happening to me,” Clary says, then winces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to curse at you.” 

Madeline just laughs. “Don’t worry about it. If I were in your position I’d be doing a lot more than letting a swear slip once and a while,” Madeline admits. “So honestly - I have no idea. It’s good because we can’t tell how your body would react to the runes coming back this way. No one’s ever lost their runes the way you did. It’s a good sign that the iratze worked, and I’d guess the others would come back just fine if reactivated, but that isn’t something we want to test just yet.” 

“Is it something we will test, though? Bringing them back? Am I--” Clary bites down on her lip for a moment, considering her question. “Will I be one of you again?” 

“Not sure about that, either,” Madeline admits. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to give me your arm for a few blood samples…” 

Helen watches Clary hold her arm out obediently, turning her head away from the needle. 

“Do you want to be a Shadowhunter again?” Helen asks, part out of curiosity and partly to distract her from what Madeline is doing. 

“I don’t know. I like my life, and my friends at the school, but I just got Simon and Luke back, and from what little I remember of the others… they meant a lot to me. I’m starting to think if I could remember more they’re the sort of people I’d do anything to get back.” Clary turns her gaze up to Helen, almost in question, and Helen gives a small nod. 

She can’t speak for Clary but she imagines that would be true, given what she knows about her and that particular group of people. Aline deals with Alec quite a bit, and while the two of them aren’t exactly ‘friends’ they’re friendly enough to cross paths at a number of social functions - ones that Aline usually invites Helen to, which means Helen is usually there with Jace and Magnus and Isabelle as well as Alec, since they all run in the same circles now.  She learned not to bring Clary up pretty early on after her disappearance from the Shadow World, rumors spreading over what exactly happened and why and  _ how _ . 

Who knew in a matter of months she’d be one of the people trying to get those answers? 

“That’s going to be all for today,” Madeline declares, putting the label on the last of the blood samples. 

“What?” Clary asks, confused. “We barely did anything!” 

“Most of what we’re going to try needs to wait for these results,” Madeline explains, waving the vial in her hand. “We might try to activate another rune… or expose you to contact with other Shadowhunters… or see what you might remember from a few places around here you’ve been to before. But we can’t do any of that until we understand a little more about what’s going on with you physically first.” 

“So you’re just doing what I was doing back in New York?” Clary asks, hands on her hips. 

“Only with proper supervision. And, like we said, testing first. You were just throwing yourself at things that felt familiar. Jace just drew that rune onto you without having any idea what it might do - if the Angels had removed your angelic blood as well you could’ve  _ died _ ,” Helen points out. “You came here for answers. We’re going to get them - but we have to do it the right way.” 

Clary sighs. “Fine,” she says, pulling the turtleneck back on. When she gets out into the hallway Simon and Jace are both there waiting to go get some food. 

“We’ll call you down if we need anything else today,” Helen says, and watches as Lydia escorts them out of this area and back up to the general living quarters. 

“So?” Aline asks, sidling up next to her. “How did it go?” 

“Pretty normal, actually. Guess we’ll find out more when the tests come back,” Helen says. 

Aline sighs dramatically. “This is going to go on forever, isn’t it?” 

“Are you complaining? I mean, it means more time with me during work hours, soooo…” Helen draws that last word out, wrapping an arm around Aline’s waist to pull her in closer. Aline leans in the rest of the way so that their foreheads touch. 

“I suppose that’s a bonus,” Aline admits quietly, smiling before giving Helen a quick kiss. “I’ve got to go meet Lydia to go over today’s update. But dinner when we’re done?” 

Helen hums. “I’ll call you when I get done here? Downside to working with your girlfriend is, y’know, the actual  _ work _ . No promises on when I’m getting out of here now.” 

“Well you can’t starve down here forever. I’ll bring the dinner to you if I have to.” 

Helen laughs, pulling back to head in the direction Madeline already disappeared in. “I’ll text you.” 

“ _ Call me _ ,” Aline insists, shouting the words between them even though they’re only a few feet away. 

And with the incentive of dinner with her girlfriend on the horizon, she decides to make quick work of whatever else might be needed of her that night, hoping to make this whole set up work in her favor as much as possible. 

The next morning she comes in, well fed and more rested than the day before, to see Madeline already with an eager grin on her face. 

“Got the tests back,” Madeline starts. 

“And?” Helen asks, already positive she knows the answer. 

“And we’ve got a green light to test quite a few hypotheticals now,” Madeline confirms, rubbing her hands together in anticipation. “Things are about to get interesting.” 

\---

...meanwhile, a long way from Alicante, there’s a knock on a door that Tessa hasn’t heard in years, probably decades. It’s a familiar cadence that she immediately associates with an old friend and doesn’t even bother to call out for confirmation before using her magic to swing the door open for him. 

“I know this place is a heavily guarded secret, but you shouldn’t just go opening your door to any rogue Warlock who makes their way in,” comes the casually aloof commentary of Magnus Bane. 

Tessa smiles secretly, still facing a bookshelf on the wall opposite the door, returning the leather bound writing in her hands to its proper place before turning to face him.  

“As if I can’t sense the exact identity of anyone who crosses my wards,” Tessa huffs. “And  _ you _ , have the gall to waltz in here as if barely a day’s past since the last time we spoke.” 

And then she remembers that the last time they did speak was for the small gathering Magnus held in Ragnor’s honor, and Tessa’s gentle teasing drops immediately. “How are you, Magnus?” She asks instead of continuing her friendly taunts. 

“I’m good. Married now, High Warlock of Alicante, but I’m sure you’ve kept up with the news.” 

Tessa knows that he knows that isn’t what she’s asking, but she lets it slide. He clearly didn’t come for a social call, not with the urgency his sudden request was approved to see her here. 

“So does that mean you’re here on official business?” She questions instead. 

“Not… strictly. But I am involved in a bit of a… Nephilim situation,” Magnus admits. 

“When aren’t you?” Tessa counters, this time unable to hide the smirk on her face. 

“That’s-” Magnus tries to argue, but can only shake his head. “Alright. Fine. Anyway, I think you’ll be interested in this one. Clary Fray is starting to get her memories back - and her powers.”    
  
“But I thought the Angels took them from her?” Tessa asks, immediately focused and all joking forgotten. 

“They did. Then her memories started to come back. Long story short, she nearly died, Jace drew an iratze on her, and now all her old runes are glowing and we’re in a bit of a  _ situation _ .” 

“...I’m going to need the long story. I’ll make tea.” Mentally, Tessa curses Magnus. Of course he knew she’d take a personal interest in this matter, given her own involvement with the Angel Ithuriel during her youth. The Angels don’t become personally involved in anything, not willingly, and when their hand is forced they certainly don’t do something like give a punishment as serious as Clary’s only to let it go a year later. Yes, Tessa is interested, against all of her good sense screaming to not get involved. 

But if they let Magnus in then the others must feel it’s worth looking into, if not to help then for the self-preservation of the Warlocks in general now that they’re a bigger part of the Nephilim’s world. Better to know what they’re getting roped into should things come down to that necessity. 

Once the tea is made they both settle in, Tessa listening to every detail Magnus has to offer her. 

“Okay. This is going to take some digging… it isn’t often the Angels get directly involved in things down here, you know that as well as I. I’ll pull any records of direct intervention I can find to see if there’s any precedent for this.” Tessa can’t hide the excitement from her tone. She loves the work she does here but sometimes she misses the excitement she used to have growing up. She may still be in the Spiral Labyrinth but it feels good to have a bit of a ‘mission’ of her own again. 

“I also want anything you have on spells that may… dampen… Nephilim abilities,” Magnus adds hesitantly. “I love Clary, I do, and I trust her. But right now there’s no telling what she may be capable of, or what’s happening to her. We need to be prepared for all possibilities.” 

Tessa nods. Things must be serious for Magnus to ask about something like that for someone he considers a friend. If he thinks there’s any chance she may go nuclear with what’s happening that only adds to the urgency of the situation. It also makes a lot more sense as to why his admission here was granted so easily. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” she promises. “Staying to take a look around with me?” 

Tessa can see the temptation in his eyes but already knows by the way he bites down on his lip that the answer is no. 

“I can’t stay - I have to get back to Alexander and the others. But I’ll be in touch. Let me know if you find  _ anything _ that might help.” 

“Of course. Take care of yourself, Magnus.” 

“You too, Tessa.” 

Tessa watches him leave, not at all minding the amount of work she has ahead of her on this one... she just hopes the next time they meet she has anything even remotely helpful for him. 


	34. Part Thirty-Four: Simon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clary's testing begins, but everything doesn't go according to plan. How many close calls can they get before too much damage is done to reverse? And will Clary be able to settle for the rules she's supposed to follow?

“So? How was it? What did they do to you?” Simon’s full of questions the moment Clary and Jace are out of the examination rooms. 

“Nothing,” Clary pouts. 

“Well… that’s good, isn’t it?” Simon questions, knowing there were some slightly lingering concerns over shady experimentations and, well, the sort of things you see in movies where the person with the strange medical thing is taken into a room alone. 

“No. I could’ve had a physical at home. I want to know what’s wrong with me,” Clary insists. 

“Nothing’s wrong with you, Clary-” Jace starts, trying to be sympathetic, but all it earns him is a sharp glare. 

“Don’t tell me nothing’s wrong with me. I can’t remember parts of my own life, I nearly died, I’m  _ glowing _ , and apparently, I have all sorts of powers I can’t figure out how to use,” Clary huffs. “There’s  _ plenty _ wrong with me.” 

“Wait-” Lydia says, having remained silent up to this point. “You’ve been trying to use your abilities?” 

“I mean, I don’t have a…” Clary trails off, making a motion like she’s pretending to draw on herself. “That stick thing-” 

“A stele,” Jace offers helpfully. 

“Yeah, that,” Clary confirms. “So I can’t. I was just, I dunno, trying to will things into happening just to see if I could.” 

“I would  _ highly _ suggest you stop doing that,” Lydia says, and Simon can tell that this is a prospect that actually worries Lydia from the way her eyes are still a little too wide. “Nephilim abilities, without the proper training and guidance, could have disastrous effects.” 

Lydia doesn’t specify if those disastrous effects would be for Clary or for the people around her, and no one asks her to. 

“Maybe once the tests come back I’ll be able to activate them?” Clary asks hopefully. Lydia only gives a noncommittal shrug and they walk the rest of the way back up to their rooms in contemplative silence. 

Simon finds himself much more torn in this situation than he thought he’d be - after all, he’s the one with more knowledge of the Shadow World and the sort of danger Clary might find herself in now. At least, more so than Clary herself does. He wants her to be happy, and he’d love to have her back in their lives, just as he imagines Jace does as well. But is that really what’s best for her? The look on Lydia’s face seems to suggest otherwise. 

Thankfully, they don’t have to worry about that for a little while. They get some food and go back to their rooms for the night. The three of them stay in their own rooms long enough to shower and change, but soon enough there’s a knock on Simon’s door - it’s Clary. 

“Hey Simon,” she says, glancing behind him. “Mind if I come in for a while? It’s just… you’re the only familiar thing I have here, and-” 

“Of course,” he agrees quickly. “No explanation needed.” 

Clary barely has time to make her way over to the bed to sit down before there’s another knock on Simon’s door. He goes to open it, not surprised to find Jace there, speaking before Simon can get a word in first. 

“Hey, I was going to go check on Clary if you wanted to-” 

Simon pulls the door all the way open to show Clary already inside, and Jace’s words fall off with a sheepish grin. “Oh. Hey.” Jace looks between the two of them hesitantly. “Well, you’re fine then, I’ll just-” 

“No, come in,” Clary insists, motioning for him to join them. Simon breathes a sigh of relief - not that he’s opposed to some alone time with Clary, but he knows how difficult all of this is for Jace, too. Simon knows how strong Jace’s feelings for Clary are, even after all this time, but she barely remembers him. He knows it isn’t his fault that Clary’s memories from before her birthday were returned to her but he still feels guilty that he got to have  _ his _ Clary back while the others didn’t. 

The three of them spend the rest of the night talking - Clary tries to ask more questions about the runes, about what she’s capable of, but they manage to not  _ really _ answer anything she asks. They can’t - they know it and she knows it - and eventually, the conversation moves to more mundane aspects of life until they start to get tired. Clary leans back on Simon’s bed and soon her questions fade off into silence as she falls asleep. 

Without a word Jace and Simon each grab a pillow and settle themselves in on either side of the bed, not wanting to risk waking her to move her to another room and equally unwilling to leave her side, just in case. The doctors had said she was fine and didn’t need constant surveillance, but… well, it was obvious that both of them feel better knowing they were here if anything happens. 

“You know Lydia and the others better than anyone else,” Simon says quietly to Jace, just before they fall asleep. “They’re going to figure this out, right? Clary’s going to get her memories back and be okay?” 

There’s a longer pause than Simon is comfortable with from Jace before he replies, “Yeah, Si. Of course she is. We’ve got the best of the best here after all.”

“Yeah,” Simon agrees, but he can’t help thinking that if they were entirely alone, without the chance of Clary being half-awake to overhear, Jace may have given him another answer. 

\---

The room they’re brought up to is more of a large, general resting area much like the set-up of the Institute’s infirmary. There are individual rooms the way there were yesterday, not like the way doctor’s offices and hospitals are set up, Simon notes. So he and Jace get to sit off to the side - distanced enough not to get in the way but close enough to hear what’s going on. 

More importantly, close enough that when Clary looks over to them for reassurance Simon can easily return her glances with a smile or an enthusiastic thumbs-up. She’s sitting on the edge of a bed, a few wires taped onto her to track her vitals for the morning’s readings. 

“So we got the tests back from yesterday,” Helen says. Aline and Lydia hover a little closer than Simon and Jace, not quite in the thick of things the way the medical staff is at the moment, and both of them move closer after hearing this news. “While your runes were removed along with your memories about a year ago, it appears that your actual Nephilim blood remains intact. That’s why the Iratze activated when Jace drew it on you.” 

Simon shares a look with Jace - they wondered, of course they did, if something like that were possible. Simon knows he isn’t the most versed in the ways of the Shadowhunters and the Nephilim and angels and all that, but it made sense if the angels were punishing Clary that they’d just take everything away. It was the conclusion they all came to - but apparently, it was the wrong one. 

“And what about the others? They don’t look like that one - are they activated too, now?” Clary asks, glancing down at the faintly glowing runes under her skin. 

Simon’s eyes followed her own. Every time he saw Clary he expected the glowing to be gone, but it’s still holding strong, even now.   
“No. Not fully. It’s like muscle memory in a way, but for your skin, if that makes any sense,” Helen starts and laughs when Clary only shakes her head. “Right. So, it’s like, when the Iratze was activated, your body remembered what it once had there. Runes are meant to be a very permanent thing, and even when they’re removed traces of them linger behind. All the traces woke up at once on you, like your body  _ remembered _ what it used to have.” 

“So we could activate them, then?” Jace asks from beside Simon, startling him with the sudden sound of his voice. Simon was so focused on what Helen was saying and looking at Clary’s runes that he almost forgot he isn’t sitting there alone. 

“With Clary’s permission, we’d like to try to activate another one, yes,” Helen says, and Simon feels his stomach clench as Helen turns back to Clary expectantly. 

Clary looks rightfully concerned. “I don’t know…” she starts slowly, eyes instinctively darting to where Simon sits once more. 

“What are the risks?” Simon asks. 

“Honestly?” Helen answers. “There’s no way to know. We can guess that since the Iratze activated without any negative side-effects that the others would too, but there’s nothing to compare this to. Clary here is Patient Zero.” 

“Don’t call me that.”    
“...don’t call her that.” 

Clary and Simon both mumble at the same time, and then share a glance before breaking into a small fit of giggles. They both watched enough zombie flicks together over the course of their friendships to know that nothing good ever comes of being ‘patient zero’ in a scenario like this. It’s a nice momentary break in the stress of the situation, even if it is inappropriately timed.

They both regain their composure quickly enough when Helen turns back to Clary, still waiting on an answer. 

“Do it,” Clary says after only a moment of hesitation. “I came here to get answers, and hopefully get my memories back. So if getting these… runes back is a step in that direction, then do it.”

“Clary, are you sure-” Jace speaks up again but Clary cuts him off. 

“Do it,” she repeats, looking at Helen and nodding, careful to avoid Simon and Jace’s concerned looks. Simon doesn’t fight her decision - he’s here as support, after all, and he wouldn’t be very supportive if he spoke out against every choice she makes for herself here. No, even if he doesn’t trust all of this, he trusts Clary, and if this is what she wants to do then he’s going to be here for her through all of it. 

He watches as Helen points out a rune on Clary’s right arm - her Angelic Power rune, Simon realizes, and hands Clary a stele to trace it herself. 

“Right,” Clary says, taking a deep breath before running the tip of the stele over the glowing marking on her arm. It stops glowing as she traces over it and Simon watches as it turns red first, then a deep crimson before settling into black. He holds his breath, fighting the urge to stand up and walk over to her, to look closer, the way that Helen, Aline, and Lydia are, but he manages to restrain himself. 

They all wait in tense silence for about a minute before each starts to relax when nothing immediately tragic happens. 

Clary’s vitals on the monitor next to her remain steady, outside of a spike in heart rate due to her own fear. 

“How do you feel?” Lydia asks, her voice soft. 

“Fine?” Clary says, moving her arm around a bit as if the movement may somehow active something extra, like shaking a reaction out of place or something. “I feel normal.” 

“Well that’s good,” Lydia says, but catches a strange look on Aline’s face and arches an eyebrow. “Isn’t it?” 

“I don’t know, is it?” Aline asks arms crossed over her chest. “You guys are forgetting that the  _ Angels _ took these runes away. What right do we have to be giving them back?” 

“If they took them away once they can stop me from getting them back, can’t they?” Clary points out in a huff. “Or they could’ve made it so I could never get them back. But they didn’t. And I can’t sit around with glowing tattoos and parts of a life I can’t remember in my head forever!” 

This time Simon doesn’t stop himself from walking over to where Clary sits, hesitating a moment before placing a hand comfortingly on her thigh - the only part covered with clothing he can safely touch. 

“It’s alright, Clary. We’ll figure this out, even if I have to tell you minute-by-minute reconstructed stories of the months you can’t remember every day until I filled in all the gaps for you.” 

He knows that’s what’s really bothering her - she could probably care less about the runes (if they weren’t, you know, glowing and making her look a little freaky) but Simon knows how desperately she wants those memories back of the life she had. 

Though he’s mostly joking about the offer it eases Clary immediately. 

“Thanks, Simon,” she says, instinctively bringing her hand over to rest on top of the one he placed on her leg. It’s such a casual, natural action that none of them notice in time to stop her.

Clary gasps. 

The moment her hand touches his own he feels it clench around his fingers, grip tight and painful, even for him. The monitor Clary’s hooked up to beeps wildly.   Simon winces against the hold and has to dip into his vampire strength to pull his hand out of her grasp, leaving her fingers to dig into her own palm instead.

Simon takes a stumbling step backward - or is he pulled backward by Jace? or pushed to the side by Aline? - it’s difficult for him to tell because he’s so focused in on Clary as her eyes shut and her entire face scrunches up in obvious pain even as she tries to steady her own breathing. 

It doesn’t last for long. Maybe because they have such a strong connection already, or maybe because she held on that extra time before Simon pulled himself away, but it clearly becomes too much for Clary when her entire body begins to shake. She goes from a strained noise through clenched teeth to what would’ve been a proper scream, Simon thinks, if she didn’t lose consciousness first. 

Helen and Madeline have gloves on and are there to catch Clary just as she starts to fall forward, guiding her body to lie back onto the bed carefully. Simon stares at Clary’s now lifeless form in muted horror and doesn’t even realize he’s still backing away until he backs himself into the wall. 

The vitals on the monitor don’t even out the way he’d expect once someone passes out. 

Simon can see the surprised look on Madeline’s face, can feel the tension rise between her and Helen and the others as Helen reads some sort of silent cue and grabs a clipboard to begin writing down the details of whatever is happening.

“What’s wrong?” Jace asks, moving toward the group carefully. 

“She’s still experiencing the pain - we don’t have her hooked up to the right sort of equipment to monitor what I wish we could right now, this obviously wasn’t supposed to happen,” Madeline explains. “But though the pain she feels register as physical, there’s no physical cause. She isn’t touching Simon anymore, but her brain is still registering a physical reaction to something entirely mental.” 

“Would the iratze help?” Jace asks, and the other share a concerned look. 

“I don’t know…” Madeline says hesitantly. “It isn’t a wound, but-” 

“Would the iratze  _ hurt _ ?” Jace amends, his stele already out, waiting. His voice is calm, but the low sort of too-calm that’s somehow worse than yelling.  

“It shouldn’t...” Madeline says finally and gives him a short nod. 

Simon watches all of this apprehensively. This all feels an awful lot like that sort of haphazard experimentation that they promised Clary wouldn’t turn into. A game of ‘let’s see what this does!’ at her expense, and now while she isn’t even conscious to agree to. Simon hates the idea of her being in pain as much as anyone else, but this? He isn’t sure he like this much, either. 

He doesn’t get a say before Jace has the stele against Clary’s neck, activating the iratze. 

The beeping on the machine slows, and finally evens out, and Simon goes through the motion of heaving a sigh of relief even though he doesn’t actually breathe. 

“I’m so sorry,” Simon says quietly, the first to speak in the silence that follows. 

“It isn’t your fault,” Jace is quick to comfort him. “We all saw her grab your hand. You didn’t do anything-” 

“I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve stopped her. I’m fast enough - I should’ve reacted faster.” Simon rambles, thinking back to how he just froze with Clary’s hand on his own. “Or I should’ve stayed out of the way in the first place-” 

“Hey,” Helen cuts him off, walking over and putting a hand on his shoulder. “She’s going to be alright. It’s all under control now.” 

“Is it?!” Simon replies, voice rising. “Because the last time she touched someone she was unconscious for an entire day. What if it’s longer this time? What if she-” 

“Simon!” Jace cuts him off this time, but the tone of Jace’s voice - that slight underlying panic - gives away that it’s as much to spare Simon his own guilt as it is to keep him from spiraling in a direction none of them want to think about. 

“Sorry,” Simon repeats and falls silent. He’s always been a worrier, it’s who he is. And all of this? It’s a lot to worry about. A lot of uncertainties, and guesses, and maybes. His worst nightmare, and all in regards to a person he cares about more than most other people in the entire world. He knows that he’s meant to be there as support and he’s doing a shit job of it when he’s the one freaking out but she’s unconscious so it isn’t like he has to be strong for Clary in this particular moment. 

“Quit apologizing,” Jace mutters. It’s one of Jace’s biggest pet peeves with him, his tendency to apologize for everything even when it isn’t his fault or isn’t a big deal. 

“So-” Simon starts instinctively but stops himself. 

“Are you alright?” Helen asks, him, and Simon could laugh at the fact that she’s asking  _ him _ , with everything else that just happened. 

“Yeah. I’m fine,” he says unconvincingly, but no one else argues. 

They keep a close watch on Clary’s vitals and eventually have to kick bot him and Jace out to get some rest overnight when she isn’t awake by the time the sun sets. They only leave with the promise that someone will come to get them if she wakes up overnight… which doesn’t happen. 

It isn’t until midday when her eyes flutter open, gaze immediately searching the room and resting on Simon. 

“Si-” she starts, tears immediately in her eyes. 

“What is it?” He asks, moving towards her but not too close, not this time. 

“You’re- you-” the words catch in her throat, full of emotion, eyes darting to his mouth. He knows without her saying a word what it is she remembers about him now. 

“Have evolved beyond this mortal plane?” he fills in, forcing the smile onto his face. “Pretty cool, huh?” 

Clary doesn’t seem to think his death, and rebirth of a sort, is anything close to cool. He’s able to joke about it now but he remembers what it was like back then when it first happened… for him and for Clary. Of course she’s reacting this way to remembering. 

“I guess…” she says through sniffles, clearly trying to control her emotions on the subject to match his own nonchalance. 

Simon’s quite impressed with his own ability to put on this brave face for her when he feels like breaking down himself, though for entirely different reasons. Seeing her awake again, and the relief that brings him, only confirms that there was a small part of him that worried there was a potential for her  _ not _ to wake up. 

“I need more of my memories back,” Clary says suddenly, turning to Madeline and Helen. 

They share a concerned look that mirrors that of everyone else in the room as well, Jace, Lydia, and Simon himself included. 

“I’m serious. I’ll just run around throwing myself at everyone if I have to. But what I remember now from Simon… I don’t want to miss things like that. He’s my best friend and he’s a  _ vampire _ and I had no idea. I  _ buried him _ !” She turns her gaze to Simon now, cold and accusatory. “Were you ever going to tell me?” 

Simon doesn’t know what to say. “I wanted to, but… we didn’t know how dangerous it might be for you to remember. I didn’t want to hurt you more by-” 

“Save it,” Clary snaps. “No one was going to tell me anything. These aren’t the sort of things I can just go on not knowing about my own life.” Clary takes a deep breath. “And I saw Edom. I’ve painted it before. But I  _ saw it _ , I was  _ there _ , with Simon, and the Alliance rune. I  _ made _ that.” 

Clary glances down at the runes on her own body, all still glowing faintly gold under her skin except the two activated ones, considering. 

“We’re looking into getting your memories back, Clary,” Helen promises. “But not right now. You were unconscious over a day this time, it’s obvious your mind, or your body, or both, aren’t ready yet. Give us some more time. That’s why you’re here, and why we’re here, okay?” 

Clary doesn’t look convinced. Simon knows that look in her eyes, the one that tells him she’s too busy thinking of a way to get what she wants without waiting around to follow the ‘rules’, and it makes him even more nervous than usual given what’s at stake. 

“Please, Clary. Getting your memories back won’t do you any good if it isn’t done safely,” Jace pleads. “And trust me, no one wants you to remember them more than I do. But not at the risk of your safety.” 

“Fine,” Clary sighs, and it sounds honest enough. 

Everyone seems to relax a little then, the danger of some rash emotional reaction seeming to pass with that final exchange on the matter, and the rest of the day follows with tests and new blood samples and what’s almost presented as a quiz with Shadowhunter terms and runes to see what Clary remembers and doesn’t remember already. 

Occasionally Clary tries to ‘help’ by suggesting ways to give her memories back: quick brushes of touch, or encounters with people who wouldn’t have a strong connection to her - like Aline, or Jia, or random Shadowhunters back at the institute - but she gets the same answer every time. 

“We’ll look into it,” Lydia replies, this time to a suggestion that they try to get another memory demon to pull the memories from wherever they’re locked away in her head. 

When they leave for dinner Simon catches the strange look Clary keeps giving him before shifting her eyes away once he notices. He thinks, afterward when they’re all back and in their separate rooms, that at least Clary will have to resign herself to not getting any more answers until tomorrow… until he hears the quiet knock on his door. 

The sight of Clary standing there, eyes already soft and pleading, tells him that he’s in trouble. 

“Simon, I know you’ll help me. You’re on my side here, right? They’re keeping things from me they have no right to keep.” Her voice is a whisper.    
  
“Clary, I-” 

“ _ Please _ , Simon. You have to help me.” Clary begs. “They don’t want me to get my memories back, I know it. They’re just going to stall and get what they want and send me back without them, and I  _ need _ to know.  _ Please _ .” 

One look into his best friend’s eyes and he knows he’s in trouble. And against all of his better judgment, Simon finds himself saying,

“What do you want me to do?” 


	35. Part Thirty-Five: Clary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clary uses Simon to try a new tactic to get her memories back, with unexpected consequences.

Clary looks at Simon from where she stands in the hallway, the fact that he hasn’t invited her in yet not lost on her. She knows that she must sound a little intense right now and that she has no right to ask this of Simon… but she has to. She’s convinced that they have no actual intentions of prioritizing getting her memories back, and if they aren’t going to figure out how to get them then she’s just going to have to take them for herself. 

“I need you to do that mind control thing on me,” Clary speaks the words quietly but with clear determination. 

Simon looks confused first. “You… what?” 

“I saw it, in one of the memories I got back. I need you to use your vampire mind control thing on me,” Clary repeats. 

“Why would I do that?” Simon asks. 

“Because you’re going to trick me into not being in pain when we hold hands and I don’t let go until I have every single memory of you back.” 

Clary speaks as if it’s the simplest answer in the world. She has to admit that it seemed obvious when she first thought of it, though Helen immediately shot it down as too risky the idea never left her mind. 

“Please, Simon,” she begs, and though she knows it’s wrong to use it to her advantage she puts on the saddest wide-eyed, quivering lipped expression she can manage. “I can’t do this alone.”

“You’re right,” Simon agrees. “You can’t. And if I refuse to help, you won’t be able to, and you’ll be  _ safe _ , and not potentially dead or in a coma for the rest of your life because of me.” 

Simon backs into the room, and though Clary braces herself for Simon to shut the door in her face he leaves it open, and she follows in behind him, closing it gently. 

“I won’t be. It’s the pain that keeps knocking me out, right? So without the pain-” 

“I can’t take  _ away _ the pain, Clary. You’d just suffer through more of it than your body could handle because your mind wouldn’t know any better,” Simon insists. 

Clary stops to think about that potential flaw in her plan. “That… could be bad,” she admits, but still in a tone that says she’s considering it anyway. 

Simon rolls his eyes and Clary huffs, sitting down on the edge of his bed with arms crossed over her chest. 

“It was a good idea in my head. Okay, so back to the drawing board. There has to be something your mind thing-” 

“It’s called  _ ‘encanto’ _ ,” Simon interrupts. 

“Right. Something your  _ encanto _ can do. Tell me more about how it works.” She doesn’t have any other ideas other than throwing herself at her friends one by one until she gets her memories of them back after blacking out a million times. She isn’t above it, honestly, but if there’s anything else that might speed things along… 

“Well,” Simon starts. “It’s more suggestion than mind control. I can make someone believe something that isn’t true. Like…” Simon’s voice gets soft and his eyes grow sad. “Like my mom. She thinks I died. I made her believe I was dead because it was the only way for her to forget what I was and move on.”

Clary’s heart plummets so fast she swears she can feel it land in her stomach. “Simon, I-” but she doesn’t know what to say. What  _ can _ she say?! This is all her fault, and not only is Simon suffering for it but Elaine too, and-

“Don’t worry about it. It’s fine. She’s fine,” Simon says quickly. 

“But how are you? This never would’ve happened if I didn’t-” Clary starts, the words tumbling out in a rush before Simon cuts her off again. 

“It isn’t your fault. I could’ve just made her forget what I am and go on for a few more years without a problem. I made the decision, that’s on me. Not you, or Mom, or anyone else.” Simon sounds like he spoke those words more than a few times to himself over the however-long it’d been since he did it. 

There’s a silence between them for a few seconds while neither of them quite know what to say. It’s Simon who breaks it. 

“Maybe…” he starts slowly. “Maybe I can use it to… trick your mind into remembering? If the memories are just locked away in there somewhere, instead of actually  _ taken _ from you, maybe I can unlock them.” 

“How?” Clary asks, not sure how what he described could actually work like that but willing to give anything a try at this point. 

“I have an idea, but before I try… you have to be sure this is what you want. It might be dangerous. It might hurt. You’ll probably blackout again. Then I’m going to have to go and get help and you’ll wind up in the hospital again and I just want you to be totally positive this is what you want.” 

Clary nods without hesitation. “I was doing it on my own before - showing up where I shouldn’t, always reaching out, looking for answers - if I don’t do this with you, I’ll find another way. You know I will.” 

Simon sighs, and Clary hates that she’s putting him in this position but she can’t think of any other way. She can’t do this on her own, Helen and the others just want to run a million tests, and even Jace is on their side, wanting to wait and see how things play out. But she doesn’t want to wait, she’s already waited an entire year and she refuses to have any more of her own life kept secret from her. She deserves to know. She  _ needs _ to know. 

“Please, Simon,” Clary repeats.  

Simon narrows his eyes, locking them with her own. She tries to open her mind, to not fight whatever suggestion he might try on her.  “ _ You never had your memories taken from you by the Angels. You remember everything from the months you spent as a Shadowhunter.”  _

Clary’s aware of a fuzzy, numb feeling that makes everything seem a bit cloudy and unfocused. 

And then Clary’s aware of a memory. It’s her mother, standing in front of her, warning of using her ability against the angel Raziel’s wishes. And then another memory, a rune drawn that brings the life of Jonathan - the life of her  _ brother _ \- to an end. And then another memory - a fading rune. And then another. And another. A wedding, dancing, goodbyes that only she knew were goodbyes, and one last faded rune. 

Then there’s a bright white light - she doesn’t know if it’s in the room or in her head, but it encompasses all of her vision. And then she hears a voice, loud and angry in her ears. The white of the light and the booming voice blind and deafen her to everything other than its presence, it’s existence in her life and power over her at that moment. 

**_CLARISSA FAIRCHILD. HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING FROM YOUR PUNISHMENT?_ **

_ ‘I didn’t even know I was being punished before! How could I when you took that memory, too?’ _

**_YOU IGNORED THE CLEAR RESISTANCE TO YOUR RETURNING MEMORIES AND ABILITIES._ **

Clary doesn’t respond to this - she can’t exactly argue, and she gets the sense that there’s no hiding her true thoughts from whatever is inside her head just then. The headaches, the pain, the blacking out… yeah she’s ignoring all of that even though she can guess why it’s happening. They all are. 

**_YOUR REMOVAL FROM OUR WORLD WAS DECREED BY RAZIEL HIMSELF. YOUR POWERS ARE AN ABOMINATION OF NEPHILIM ABILITIES - IT GOES AGAINST OUR WILL AND WE CANNOT HAVE IT RETURN INTO OUR WORLD. THE WAYLAND BOY NEVER SHOULD HAVE BROUGHT YOU BACK. YOU NEVER SHOULD HAVE RETURNED._ **

Clary isn’t sure if he means literally bringing her back - to Idris, to the Institute - or figuratively, by that touch that seemed to break the spell at her art show, or with the rune drawn on her neck in that alley. 

_ ‘I deserve to have my memories back. You threatened to take my powers - you didn’t say anything about my memories. These are my friends. My family! I saved your entire goddamn world and you took them from me! I lost everything.’  _

**_YOU ARE ENTITLED TO NOTHING. BE THAT AS IT MAY, I HAVE COME TO YOU AS AN ACT OF KINDNESS. WHAT YOU SAY IS TRUE - YOU SAVED OUR WORLD, SO I SHALL SAVE YOU. HEED MY WARNING, CHILD: RAZIEL IS WATCHING YOU. HE DOES NOT CURRENTLY PERCEIVE YOU AS A THREAT - STOP BEFORE HE DOES._ **

Clary feels ill, a wave of nausea passing over her with the words. The Angels are watching her. Raziel is watching her, but this voice isn’t him. It's another angel, one trying to protect her. 

_ ‘Who are you?’ _

She doesn’t get an answer - the warning is given and the conversation is over. The light subsides and the voice fades, leaving Clary in dark silence. 

**_\---_ **

Clary blinks her eyes open slowly, the light from Simon’s room filtering in between her lashes. 

“Clary?! Clary! Oh man, you have no idea how relieved I am. I was two seconds away from calling Lydia. Are you okay? What  _ happened _ ?!” 

Simon’s rambling is overwhelming. 

“I-” Clary starts, but stops abruptly. The angels don’t want her to get her memories back, and they  _ especially _ don’t want her to get her powers back. But she wants both, and she doesn’t care what the angels want from her. She wants her life back, and she’s going to get it, one way or another. 

“I just passed out again, like you thought I would. Guess it was a stupid idea.” It isn’t a complete lie, but she still feels guilty saying it. She doesn’t tell him about the voice, or the threats. The moment the Shadowhunters have actual confirmation that Raziel doesn’t want her to have her life as a Shadowhunter back then it’s over for her, and she refuses to let that happen. 

Simon gives her a strange look, but finally, his features smooth out into a look of relief. “I’m just glad you’re alright. Please don’t make me do anything like that again.” 

“I won’t,” Clary promises, but not just because Simons asks. She’s afraid now - not for herself, but for the people she’s getting involved in this crusade she’s on. She’s afraid of getting Simon too involved in something she knows might have dire consequences… and not just Simon. She suddenly wishes he and Jace and Lydia were all far away from here with no part in this at all, just in case. She doesn’t think Raziel would punish anyone but her but… well, she can’t be certain  of that. 

She can’t be certain of anything anymore. 

“I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed early. Tell Jace if you see him that I’ll see you two in the morning,” Clary says quietly excusing herself. She can hear the slight tremor in her voice, still shaken from what she just experienced. 

“Oh,” Simon says, a little surprised. “Yeah. Get some rest.” 

She doesn’t look back as she leaves Simon’s room and goes back to her own, leaning against the door once it’s closed behind her. Clary isn’t surprised to find her hands shaking and her legs weak as she brings her hand up, pressing against her mouth to muffle the stuttering sob that tries to escape before Simon or Jace can hear her. What she felt during that conversation was so overwhelming it lingers with her still.   

She has to tell them. She should tell them… but if they know they’ll stop helping her. Maybe she deserves this punishment if she’s as selfish as the angels claim; her current desire to keep going with the tests and experiments seems to lend itself to that conclusion. 

Resolving to decide in the morning, Clary pushes herself away from the door and forces her legs to carry her as far as the bed before she collapses, asleep the moment her head hits the pillow. 

Clary dreams of angels and demons; of a brother she doesn’t remember gaining and a mother she doesn’t remember losing; of a life she needs to decide how much she’s willing to risk to get back.  


	36. Part Thirty-Six: Jace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jace is worried about this even more reckless than usual turn Clary seems to be taking, and when he tries to talk her down from it he discovers just how far she's willing to go to get what she wants.

Jace goes to Clary’s room twice that night, each time not getting a response from Clary on the other side of the door. In the end Simon comes out and mutters something about her turning in early before vanishing suspiciously fast himself. Strange, but nothing worth worrying about.

At least, not until the next morning. Jace knows something’s up the moment he’s at breakfast with Clary and Simon. They keep dodging each other’s glances, and at some point, Simon tries to ask Clary something in a half-whisper but she cuts him off so fast Jace has to assume it’s a topic that she doesn’t want to talk about… or doesn’t want overheard.

“Is everything alright? You two are acting weird, even for you.” Jace says it with a joking laugh but his nonchalance is just for show. He’s worried but he doesn’t want to let on that he’s acutely aware of something being wrong, not when they’re both going out of their way to hide whatever that something is. They’re more likely to let it slip if they don’t know he’s looking for it.

“I’m fine,” Clary says.

“I’m not acting weird. I mean, no more weird than usual. I’m always a _little_ weird...” Simon starts to ramble, and Jace just arches an eyebrow at him. Simon gives a half-hearted attempt at a smile before falling silent and it’s then that Jace can see how properly exhausted Simon looks, like ‘he spent the night running a marathon’ levels of exhausted.

Yeah, something is definitely up. He decides not to push it - Clary looks distracted and he wants to hope that she’ll tell him if something is wrong. Maybe it is just that she had a rough night; this has to be a lot to deal with, and he knows that the hurt he feels at whatever she _might_ be keeping from him is entirely selfish. She doesn’t know him - at least, not the way he knows her. It’s a painful reminder he has to give himself more than once that morning while his concerned glances are brushed off or ignored.

They head back down to the medical area with Lydia and Aline to find Helen and the others already waiting for them, and at least now it’s easier to forget the nagging feeling that something is off. Jace spends a little bit of time talking with Simon to pass the time but it doesn’t take long for their attention to be focused on Clary. This morning’s discovery draws everyone’s attention as Clary very reluctantly takes off the sweater she has over her tank top: besides the two runes they drew on her, standing out stark and black like the tattoos she mistook them for when she first saw them on Jace, the others are gone. There’s no sign of the glowing gold impressions of her old runes.

“When did this happen?” Helen asks immediately.

“I don’t know,” Clary says with a shrug, worrying her bottom lip. “But we can still draw them back on, right? I mean they don’t have to go back in the _exact_ same spots?” Jace can hear her tone grow anxious, almost fearful of the answer she’ll receive.

“We might, but it’d be better to wait to make sure there aren’t any negative effects on a more long-term scale first. Maybe this is your body fighting back against the two we activated...” Helen muses thoughtfully, scratching notes onto a piece of paper as she speaks.

“Or maybe it’s something else fighting back,” Aline adds, hinting at what they’re all wondering - if this is a sign they _shouldn’t_ be activating any more. Aline hasn’t been shy about her concerns in the past that the Angels might not like any of what they’re doing here, and while Jace can’t blame her; he also doesn’t want to imagine that after coming so far this might be it, and Clary may never fully come back to them.

To him.

“Then what about my memories?” Clary breaks in quickly. “I know it hurts to get them back, I _know_ the risks, but can’t I just like, sign a waiver to let you do it anyway?” Clary is insistent and Jace notices that she sounds almost desperate now, her words carrying an urgency they didn’t before.

“That isn’t how this works, Clary,” Helen reminds her.

“Well, why not? What if we used someone I didn’t know so well, maybe the memories wouldn’t be as… intense. Aline, we knew each other a little, right?” Clary turns her attention to Aline who looks surprised to be singled out.

“We did,” Aline confirms. “But that isn’t my call to make.”

Clary huffs in annoyance. “I know you’re waiting on more tests, and you’re just doing this for my own good, and everything you keep saying… but we aren’t _doing_ anything and I can’t stay here forever.”

Clary’s voice is shaky, she looks almost on the brink of tears, and Jace stands up to move towards where she sits on the edge of the exam table. He’s hesitant after the reaction he’s been getting to his concern all morning but he can’t ignore it any longer, not with her acting like this when yesterday she seemed fine. Well, as fine as she could, all things considered.

“Clary…” he starts slowly, hoping the emotions are just a matter of general frustration and not something more. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just… it’s nothing. I’m just frustrated. And impatient. You know me - at least, I guess you know me. This is typical, impatient Clary, right? I’m sure I wasn’t that different last year.” Clary backtracks, eyeing the people around her cautiously. Jace can see the wheels turning, that there’s more to it than what she’s saying in this room but he doesn’t push it with everyone else around.

They run a few more tests now that she seems calmer, wanting to see if there are any deeper physical changes with the glowing gone, and Clary, Simon, and Jace are all told it’ll take a bit of time so they’re free to go while they wait for the results.

Clary pulls Simon to the side to whisper something to him and Jace does his best not to be put off by it. He keeps his distance until something goes wrong and Clary turns and storms off without another word.

“Alright Lewis, spill. What the hell is going on with you two today?” Jace demands, adding quickly as Simon opens his mouth to reply, “And don’t you dare tell me it’s nothing.”

Simon shuts his mouth again and looks genuinely conflicted for several long moments before he opens it again. “Okay but first you have to promise not to kill me, and double promise not to tell Clary I told you, and triple promise not to tell Helen and Aline and Lydia.”

Now Jace’s stomach sinks, heavy with the knowledge that this might actually be _worse_ than whatever he’d been imagining up to this point. The pointed glare he gives Simon makes him continue even without Jace agreeing to any of what he asked.

“Okay, fine. Last night Clary asked me to use my encanto on her to get her memories back,” Simon admits in a rush of words. After they’re out Simon actually looks a little relieved, but Jace is too busy being furious to notice.

“Please tell me you didn’t,” Jace says, already knowing the answer.

“I tried, but it didn’t work. She only passed out for a second but she left so fast afterward, and she’s been weird all day. She didn’t tell me anything about the runes not glowing anymore though... do you think it’s connected somehow?” Simon asks, looking worried.

“I don’t know, Simon. That’s the sort of thing the _people running tests_ should be able to figure out. You know, _if they knew_.” Jace glares. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Or Clary didn’t tell me.”

Simon shrugs. “I didn’t think it was a big deal until she was acting so strange today. I’m actually a little worried now.”

“You think?” Jace snaps.

“Well what was I supposed to do?! She showed up practically begging me to help, to do _something_. Should I have turned her away to do something stupid on her own?”

Jace has to admit Simon makes a good point there. Clary is acting pretty brashly, even for her, right now. And if they don’t support her the best they can, be there as much as they can, he’s not sure what extremes she might go to on her own at this point.

“I’m not mad at you,” Jace finally admits. “But I’m worried, too.”

“It also drained the hell out of me. Like, I’ve done quite a bit of Encanto-ing in my year-and-a-half as a vampire and nothing ever made me feel like that afterward.”

Great, Jace thinks, now he has to be worried about both of them and not just Clary.

“Maybe you can talk to her. There’s something she isn’t telling me but I can’t figure out what,” Simon suggests.

“Fine. But we’re not done here.” Jace warns before leaving to see where Clary ran off to.

He finds her in her room, where she reluctantly opens the door to his unrelenting knocks once he makes it very clear he’ll stand there until she eventually has to come back out if he has to.

“How are you doing?” Jace wants to make sure she’s okay first and foremost, no matter what other questions or reservations he has.

“Fine,” she says again, starting to sound like a broken record.

“Is this about the runes disappearing?” He prompts.

“No,” Clary starts, but pauses. “Not entirely, but I’m not thrilled about that.”

“Is it about Simon last night?” He chances.

“How did you-- of course he told you.” Clary rolls her eyes.

“Don’t be mad at him. He’s just worried. We both are,” Jace points out.

“Well don’t be. It doesn’t matter anymore. Unless…” Clary looks up at him with an expression he knows all too well: she’s getting an idea, an instinctive plan that settles her features into something suddenly soft and pleading. Jace knows exactly what’s coming next. “Draw another rune on me. One of the ones that faded.”

“Clary, you know I can’t-”

“Why not? No one said you couldn’t. We drew one yesterday and it was fine. And the iratze was fine. So it’ll be fine.” Clary almost sounds like she believes her own words, but only almost.

“Why can’t we just wait for Helen and the others to okay it?” He asks, because that’s the logical option, the safe one. Why is she so hell-bent on recklessly going behind everyone’s backs all of a sudden?

“Because I can’t. I just can’t. They’re never going to let me stay with you if I’m not one of you, and they’re just going to say it’s too dangerous, and what if the others _never_ say it’s okay? This is the only way, Jace. It’s the only way. Please?” And there it is, that distraught pleading that he knows Simon faced the night before and caved to. For all the shit he just gave the guy over it mere minutes ago, Jace feels himself buckling under the same look, the same tone. Of course he is, because it’s Clary, and he’s an idiot if he thinks either of them wouldn’t give up anything to help her, especially to help her _stay_.

“Alright. How about… we’ll do the soundless rune. Should be harmless enough,” Jace says, trying to convince himself. He points to her left wrist where he remembers it being even after all this time and Clary pulls her sleeve up just enough for him to draw it, but the moment the stele touches her skin it feels _wrong_. It’s resisting him, his own stele burning under his touch, and when he tries to continue anyway he gets a sudden pain through his hand and up his arm that forces him to drop the stele in shock.

“Ow!” he exclaims, pulling his arm back.

“What is it?” Clary asks, suddenly concerned and shifting toward him, almost close enough to touch.

“It… I’ve never felt that before. Like it refused to draw the rune.” Jace looks up at her and knows he isn’t able to fully keep not just the confusion, but hint of fear, off his face.

“Try again,” Clary impores, but Jace only shakes his head.

“No, you don’t get it. It physically _hurt_ to try. That’s never happened before… that isn’t right, Clary. We should definitely wait for those tests.”

Clary looks angry, then disappointed, and after a long silence seems to finally be at peace with the decision, face a total, neutral calm. “Fine. Let’s… do something else then. Teach me about the stele. If I can’t have the runes yet I can at least learn about them.”

It seems like a safe compromise. They talk a little bit about what it’s made of, how it works, and the history behind it, with the conversation flowing casually enough that Jace almost forgets about what happened. He’s so relaxed around Clary, so off his guard, that before he realizes what’s happening the stele is out of his palm, in Clary’s hands, and being used to a symbol onto her left wrist with more force than should be needed. Jace is too surprised to do anything but register that it’s the soundless rune before he moves to grab the stele back but freezes mid-motion. What would stopping a rune partway through do? Probably nothing, but… it might be worse than letting her finish for all he knows. In the time he hesitates she forces her way through to the end of the mark, and the resistance she faces from the stele along the way doesn’t go unnoticed: it’s the same sort of resistance they saw with the Alliance Rune. But instead of looking worried Clary is grinning up at him like he should be _proud_ of her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” He shouts instead, finally snapping out of it enough to reach out and snatch the stele back.

“Whatever I have to!” Clary snaps back, voice rising slightly to match. “You two are supposed to be my friends, you’re supposed to _help me_ , but Simon’s powers didn’t work and he refuses to try again, and you won’t even let me do the one thing that might help me be a Shadowhunter again. Don’t you want me to stay? Because at this point I might as well just leave and go back to art school and have Magnus wipe whatever I remembered because _none of it is going to matter soon!”_

Clary’s shaking now, and Jace is careful to make sure the spot he moves forward to wrap his arms around is properly covered by Clary’s shirt before pulling her into as close of a hug as he can risk without touching any of her actual skin. The moment he does she breaks down completely, tears soaking a spot on his shirt where she buries her head.

“I just want to have that part of my life back again. It was so important - the bits I remember, what I _feel_ , I know it was. Why won’t anyone help me get it back? Don’t you want me back?”

“Of course I do,” Jace replies instantly because it’s ridiculous to think anything else. “More than anything. And if I thought I could, _safely_ , I would do it in a heartbeat, no matter what it took. But I just… I can’t risk it. I can’t risk hurting you.”

Clary doesn’t reply to that, sniffling against his chest instead. Jace laments the fact that he can’t even chance running a hand comfortingly through her hair to calm her shuddering breaths. As they stand in this careful silence something she said earlier sticks with him, and he can’t help but circle back to it.

“What did you mean about ‘none of this mattering soon’?” He asks. “Why are you suddenly so desperate for all of this to happen right away?”

Clary’s shaking stops - in fact, she freezes entirely. He can feel her stiffen under his touch, holding her breath, silent for a while.

“It’s nothing,” she says, and he knows it’s a lie. It’s one she’s repeated more than once today, and each time it’s been a lie. “I just don’t want to wait anymore.”

“It’s more than that. Clary, you can trust me. You can talk to me. Please,” he begs, stepping back now to hold her at arm’s length and look her in the eye, searching for any sign of what’s actually bothering her.

She meets his gaze, searching his face for something, and for a moment he thinks he sees a shift there like she wants to tell him... but just as quickly it’s gone.

“I told you, I’m just being impatient.” Clary turns away from him as she speaks. “I have to do something. I’ll see you back at the lab.”

Jace knows he isn’t getting anything else out of her, and though he wants to follow her he figures it’s best to give her space if that’s what she wants right now. He can try again later, or tomorrow, or as many times as he has to until he gets through to her.

Or so he thinks until he and Simon get back down to the lab only to be stopped at the entrance by Lydia.

“What’s wrong?” Simon asks.

“You two are going back to New York,” Lydia says carefully.

“What? No. Absolutely not. You promised Clary-”

“Clary’s the one who asked to send you back.” Lydia sounds like she doesn’t believe the words she’s saying as much as Jace doesn’t buy them, but when he looks down the hall to where Clary pointedly avoids looking at him and Simon he knows it’s true.

“Why?” He asks, looking past Lydia to Clary.

Clary pauses, turning to Lydia. “Can you give us a minute?”

It’s only once Lydia is down the hall and out of earshot that Clary turns to him and Simon with guilt written all over her features.

“I’m sorry. I just… if you’re here, I’m going to keep asking you to help me, and it’s only going to keep hurting you.” She turns from Jace to face Simon, adding, “Both of you. And it isn’t fair of me to put either of you in that position. It’s better this way. Safer.”

Whether she means safer for her or safer for them, he isn’t sure. He’d ask if he thought there is any chance she’d actually tell him the truth.

“We can stay and not-” Jace tries to argue but Clary shakes her head.

“No. Just… trust me. It’s better if I do this alone now. I’m so glad you were here, though. Really.”

Jace can’t figure out why she looks so sad about the decision she made - if she doesn’t really want them to leave, why force them out? What’s the point? But he isn’t going to get those, or any other, answers.

“I’m sorry,” Clary repeats. “I’ll see you when I get back to New York… depending on how it all plays out, I guess. Thanks for everything, I wouldn’t have gotten this far without you two.”

And there it is again. He missed it the first time around when she lost her runes and her memories, leaving nothing but a letter behind in explanation. He sees it now, though, because he knows to look for it: that sense of finality. The potential goodbyes hidden behind her words, like she knows something he doesn’t about how all this is going to end. Like she’s trying to protect him… but from what?

There’s no letter to explain things this time around, though, as he and Simon go to collect their things and head back home.

Jace spent so long wishing he knew leading up to the moment Clary left after the wedding that he would’ve realized what was happening. Now he knows that recognizing the signs and not being able to do anything about them hurts even worse than being kept entirely in the dark.


	37. Part 37: Lydia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Jace and Simon gone, Lydia keeps a closer eye on Clary while she's in Alicante. While she's there Lydia finds herself determined to get to the bottom of whatever is causing these sudden changes Clary's exhibiting the past day or so... what she discovers in the end is more than any of them bargained for.

Watching Jace and Simon leave, Lydia is even more confused now than she was before. Nothing Clary’s doing makes any logical sense right now - why insist on having Jace and Simon here if she’s only going to turn around and demand they leave the moment Lydia would assume she’d want them around the most? Why not talk to them first instead of trying to have Lydia be the bearer of bad news? Trying to pry any reasonable explanation from Clary seems impossible, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to try again. 

“Are you alright?” Lydia asks her as she makes her way back into the examination area. 

“Fine,” Clary says, clearly lying, the word short and her eyes looking anywhere but Lydia’s face. 

“You can tell me if they did or said anything to make you uncomfortable, Clary. I’m sure it can’t be easy, them being so familiar with you, may be used to-” 

“It isn’t anything like that,” Clary says quickly, looking mortified at the implication that Jace or Simon might’ve been anything other than perfect gentlemen. “It isn’t them at all. It’s me. There’s just… too much going on. They’re too much of a distraction, I can’t think clearly, I can’t do things for myself when they’re both right there all the time treating me like I’m two seconds away from breaking all the time.” 

Now that, Lydia thinks, at least makes some sort of sense. It’s a little selfish, sure, but she can understand where Clary’s coming from. 

“Alright. They can come back if you change your mind,” Lydia points out and that seems to ease something in Clary as well just to know she has the option. 

“Thanks,” Clary says. “Now let’s get on with the tests.” 

There’s no use delaying the return to the work they came here to do, and Lydia stands back and watches Clary subject herself to a number of mental and physical tests, on top of the bloodwork that doesn’t return anything definitive. It’s only when they go to check for any residual trace of the blowing angelic power from before that they notice the new rune on her arm, the one she forced there earlier. 

“Woah,” Helen says, stopping abruptly. “When did _that_ happen?” 

All eyes are on it now, Lydia’s included, and when she looks up at Clary the other girl looks… surprisingly impassive for a moment, not even confused, or hesitant, just… blank. 

“I… don’t know,” Clary says slowly, causing more than just Lydia’s eyebrow to arch in the room as Clary continues. “I’ve been wearing long sleeves around everyone… it must’ve just come back.” 

“You didn’t feel it?” Lydia asks, not sure why but not fully believing the idea that it just _happened_ without Clary knowing. 

“No,” Clary insists. “But that’s a good thing, right? It means I’m getting them back, maybe we can even put the rest back on now.” 

“Maybe…” Helen allows, hooking Clary up to the monitor before taking out her stele and running it over the rune, which activates like normal. “Everything seems stable enough. Let’s see if we can figure out how it came back first.” 

Clary looks disappointed but doesn’t argue through a series of exams and even more tests, some involving activating the three runes already on her, others involving running a stele over the rest of her skin to see if the runes that used to be there might activate from the exposure, but none of them do. It’s a lot of dead ends that Helen insists don’t make any sense if the runes were starting to return on their own. 

“I don’t get it,” Helen says to just Lydia and Aline in a separate room while Clary goes to grab something to eat. “It doesn’t make any _sense_.” 

“Nothing about Clary Fray makes sense,” Aline offers. 

Lydia huffs out a laugh. “What I don’t get is why she’d send Jace and Simon away. That was weird, right?” 

At that Aline offers a serious shrug. “Maybe she’s just tired of the reminder of what she lost. I would be, if I were her, to have people surrounding me like they’re my best friends when I barely remembered them.” 

“Yeah, I suppose…” Lydia agrees though it’s clear she doesn’t totally buy it. Maybe it’s because she’s a little closer to Clary than the other two, but she can’t shake that feeling that it’s something more, something deeper than Clary keeps claiming on the surface. 

When Clary returns later it’s with another rune, this time the Unseen Rune, just above the Soundless one on her inner left arm. Once more Clary insists she doesn’t know when it got there, using it as leverage to insist that this is fine and they should just activate the rest of them and get it over with. 

“No,” Madeline says, finally coming back to check on the new developments. “Even if they were there before, they shouldn’t be coming back on their own. The Iratze needed Jace to activate it, we drew the Angelic Rune… I suppose there’s a possibility that the Angelic Rune could be effecting the others, but…” she trails off looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I’d rather not push it so early on. We’re in uncharted territory and given your history with being overwhelmed with parts of this life returning to you, I’d rather not risk any unnecessary near-comas again.” 

Even Clary has to reluctantly admit that Madeline has a point, even if she’s distinctly sour about it. Lydia comes and goes, mostly hanging around to give Clary a friendly face now that Jace and Simon are gone since she isn’t much practical help during any of the tests or analyses. The same goes for meals, especially when Clary starts to get a little lightheaded later in the day and admits she hadn’t actually eaten. 

“I can grab something on my own,” Clary tries to insist when Lydia shows up to get a proper meal with her. 

“Clearly you can’t,” Lydia points out. “And Jace will kill me if I bring you back half-starved.” 

Clary rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, which Lydia’s grateful for. It’s bad enough feeling like a glorified babysitter, she doesn’t _actually_ want to have to scold Clary for something as basic as eating meals. 

At first, Clary seems distracted and distant, but after a bit of small talk, she grows quiet for a few minutes before asking Lydia about the Angels. 

“What about them?” Lydia prompts. 

“Have you ever seen one?” Clary questions. “What are they like?” 

Lydia shakes her head. “No,” she admits. “I haven’t, not personally. I’ve heard stories… sometimes they show themselves, and a few people have managed to summon them down to Earth against their will, but it doesn’t happen often.” 

“Everyone seems so afraid of them,” Clary observes, and while Lydia can tell she’s trying to sound casual about the statement she’s also extremely interested in the response, eyes locked on Lydia. 

“We are,” Lydia admits. “The Angels… they don’t get involved unless it’s something huge. Like, Big with a capital B, world-changing stuff. For them to get involved in taking your memories and runes…” 

“That was Big,” Clary pieces together. 

“Yes. And undoing that isn’t something any of us can just take lightly, no matter how much we agree or disagree with you.” Lydia knows this isn’t anything Clary hasn’t been explained before, but for some reason, Clary’s questions feel different now… like before she wasn’t _really_ listening to them if it wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but now she is. 

Lydia wonders what changed between then and now. 

“The Angels wouldn’t… _hurt_ any of you, though, would they? For helping me?” Clary asks. 

Lydia very decidedly does not like this sudden line of questioning. 

“It’s difficult to say,” she answers honestly. “I wouldn’t say ‘hurt’, but… well, they didn’t have to _hurt_ you to punish you before, did they? I’m sure if we did anything directly against their will we’d know. They may be severe but they aren’t entirely unfair.” 

It’s the one thing keeping them all going at this point - surely if something they were doing went against the will of the Angels, it would be known, somehow. There would be a warning, just as they warned Clary before she created the final rune that set her down this path in the first place. 

“RIght,” Clary mutters, picking at the last of the food on her plate before putting her fork down. “I’m going to head back to my room for a bit,” Clary says. As they both stand and go to leave Clary bumps into Lydia with surprising force, trying to play it off as an accident. “Oof, sorry. Must be more tired than I thought,” Clary says with a would-be-casual laugh, sliding her hands into her pockets quickly. 

Lydia feels the missing weight from her own pocket immediately, however. 

“Hey!” Lydia calls, but Clary pretends not to hear her and quickens her pace. Lydia catches up with her fast enough, grabbing her arm and swinging her around. “What the hell, Clary?” 

“I don’t know what you’re-” Clary tries to start but Lydia doesn’t even give her the courtesy of trying to lie, reaching her hand into Clary’s pocket to pull out her stele, which Clary just tried to _steal_ from her, holding it up accusatorily. 

“Why on earth would you need to steal my--” Lydia begins to question, except it suddenly dawns on her and she trails off, eyes narrowing dangerously. “They didn’t just come back, did they?” 

“Of course they did,” Clary says defensively.

“So if I suggest we keep you in total isolation and never let another stele cross your path--” Lydia suggests, which breaks Clary immediately. 

“Please, Lydia, you can’t-- you can’t do that. And you can’t tell the others. I promise I won’t do it again but just… you can’t tell them it was me. They’ll send me away, or lock me up, and I’ll never get any answers. I’ll never get my life back.” Clary says the last bit with so much desperation, her voice breaking and on the verge of a sob, that Lydia can’t help but feel bad for her, even if she did lie and actively try to steal from her. 

“Clary, you know I can’t do that. They need to know-” 

“You don’t understand, Lydia. They _can’t_. Please. I promise, it’s… it’s more complicated than that.” Clary frowns. 

“Then explain it to me. Because it seems pretty simple to me,” Lydia huffs. 

“I can’t. You just have to trust me. Which-” Clary adds quickly. “I know is asking a lot right now. Sleep on it, at least. It isn’t hurting anyone. But once they find out… that might not be the case anymore.” Clary looks down at the runes on her arms and Lydia follows her gaze, wondering if they’d be removed if Lydia told the others the truth. A de-runing, even just one or two, isn’t something she’d wish on anyone if it can be helped. 

“Tomorrow. You tell them, or I will,” Lydia tells Clary. She isn’t sure if she’ll follow through, but at least if Clary admits what she did on her own it’d give her some credibility. 

Clary takes a deep breath, turns, and leaves without agreeing or disagreeing to the ultimatum, leaving Lydia with an unsettled feeling in her stomach over the knowledge she now holds. She should go back right now and tell the others, but something stops her. Maybe it’s the hope that Clary will do the right thing on her own or the fact that she believes her - that they aren’t hurting anyone, so what’s the big deal? 

She supposes she’ll find out in the morning. 

...except its barely two hours later when there’s a knock on her door, and one of the Clave assistants is there telling her that Luke Garroway came to see Clary, except she’s refusing to speak with him. 

First Simon and Jace, and now Luke? That unease from earlier settles over Lydia again and she offers to meet him in one of the offices in ten minutes, just to give herself a few minutes to make herself presentable. 

She has no idea what she’s about to walk into, why Luke might be here or why Clary might not wish to speak with him, but judging from the way he’s pacing and wringing his hands together she figures it can’t be good, not that there was much hope for that in the first place. 

“Mr. Garroway,” she greets him, offering a half-smile despite her own worries. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“It’s hardly pleasure,” Luke admits, looking behind Lydia at the door she left open. Taking his cue she backtracks a few steps to close it, and then enters the room fully to be close enough that they can speak quietly between one another. 

“There are no cameras or audio recorders in this room,” she says, and Luke’s tense posture eases slightly. “I’d like to say anything you tell me will remain between us in confidence, however--” 

“Yes, I know. You’ll-” he hesitates again, then sighs. “You’re going to have to report this.” 

There’s no doubt in his tone, only resignation, and Lydia is suddenly terrified for whatever he may be here with that he knows will have to go higher up than her. Lydia doesn’t know a lot about Luke but she does know his connection to Clary. Does he know that she’s been adding her own runes too? Does he know something more? Something worse? 

“Whatever you have to tell me, I’ll take the appropriate actions, Mr. Garroway. We both want what’s best for Clary,” she says, hoping he’ll find reassurance in her words. 

He seems to because he nods shakily. “Yeah. That’s why I’m here. I think she’s putting herself in danger.” 

“How so?” Lydia prompts. 

“I had a dream,” he starts, then stops again, frowning. “I really don’t want to call it a vision, but I think that’s what it was. I think the angels sent me a vision. They said that they warned her once, and they would not warn her again and that maybe she’d listen to me because they’re running out of messengers they think she’ll listen to.” At that Luke gives a short laugh. “But she won’t even listen to me, so I guess they’re wrong about that.” 

“Warned her about what?” 

“The runes. She was never meant to get them back. Once they realized she started to they tried to stop her, but she hasn’t listened.” 

“No, she hasn’t,” Lydia agrees. “In fact, she keeps trying to add more. No wonder she’s been so insistent lately - if the Angels warned her she knows it’s only a matter of time before they stop her permanently.” 

Everything - while getting infinitely worse by the second - at least makes so much more sense now. Clary sent Simon and Jace away because she knows it’s just a matter of time before she’s punished again - she’s trying to distance herself from people the Angels might try to hurt to get her to listen… or maybe the people who might hurt themselves to help her. Did they know what she’s been doing? What she planned? 

Lydia wants to find out but she supposes there are things to deal with here and now first. 

There’s a knock at the door and Aline doesn’t wait for a response before throwing it open. One look between her and Luke and Lydia knows Jia’s already realizing that whatever they’re talking about is a big deal, and since it’s _Luke_ it’s almost guaranteed to be about Clary. 

“Care to fill me in?” Aline asks. 

Lydia remains silent. She knows that this isn’t something they can keep secret - messages from any of the Angels are not to be taken lightly, but somehow it doesn’t feel like her secret to share. She knows about Clary drawing the runes but Luke getting a vision, or a dream, or whatever he wants to call it… she knows he brought that to her knowing she’d be forced to tell the others, and yet she feels conflicted about actually _doing_ _it_ now that Aline is here. 

Thankfully, Luke doesn’t make her. 

“I think I got a message from an Angel, to stop Clary from drawing more runes on herself. I’m not sure why she suddenly started to remember things, and I don’t think they are, either. But it isn’t what they want.” Luke says it all in one rambling breath and looks almost ashamed at the end. “She’s going to hate me for this. _I_ almost hate me for this. If I wasn’t more afraid of what they might do to stop her than I am of her not getting this part of her memories back…” 

“You did the right thing coming to us,” Aline says, and Lydia watches in awe as she seems to turn all of her emotions off, compartmentalizing the situation immediately. “But the runes were coming back on their own-” 

“They aren’t,” Lydia chimes in, emboldened by Luke’s motivations. She isn’t helping Clary by keeping this secret, she realizes suddenly. She should’ve realized before. “Clary lied. She’s been drawing them on herself.” 

Aline doesn’t ask her how she knows this, or how long she’s known, for which Lydia is extremely grateful. 

“I’ll let the others know.” 

Lydia doesn’t have to ask where Aline is going first, and it’s no surprise when they’re waiting near Clary’s room when Jia strides down the hallway, using a master key to open the door to Clary’s room. She’s sitting on her bed, fully clothed, waiting. Her eyes are red and puffy, it’s obvious she’s been crying, but she also doesn’t look surprised to see her door forced open or the others waiting for her. 

“I can explain-” she starts, voice soft and broken, but Jia isn’t having any of it. 

“Clarissa Fairchild, I believe your stay here is over. Please take your things and return back to New York. A portal is waiting for you.” Jia’s words are even, but the anger behind them is thinly veiled. 

“Please, I can-- I’ll stop. You can keep testing, maybe there’s something there we haven’t found yet-” 

“I think it’s been made very clear what needs to happen here. You need to return to New York, to your mundane school and your mundane friends, and forget about all of this. The Council will decide if a full de-runing will be necessary, but for now, I think it’s best that you leave.”

“But-” 

“Now, Clarissa.” Jia’s tone leaves no room for argument, and even Aline winces by her side. 

Lydia feels paralyzed where she stands, unable to offer any help to Clary as she puts her things into a bag, unable to console a regretful Luke or stand in solidarity next to Aline and Jia. She hates all of this - the Angels working against Clary’s return, Jia’s eagerness to send her away, the role she played in helping Clary stall this longer than she should’ve - none of it feels right, but there’s nothing she can do to change it. Not here, not now. 

All she can do is walk Clary to the portal with the others. Luke takes her back home, which is the only small comfort Lydia has as she watches Clary fight to muffle the sniffles and occasional full sob over the sudden turn of events. 

“Take care of yourself, Clary,” Lydia finally manages at the last moment. 

Clary turns her gaze up to her with a small smile. “Thank you,” Clary says. “For everything.” 

It doesn’t do much to make her feel better, but it’s something, at least, to know Clary doesn’t hate her for how things played out. What if Lydia let her use the stele? What if she stopped Luke from telling the others about the message he got? So much could be different… but would it be for the better? 

Aline and Jia and even Luke seem to think not. Maybe it’s just Lydia being naive. Maybe she’s allowed herself to get too close to Alec, too fond of the others, to be truly impartial. 

It doesn’t matter now. 

“Take care of yourself,” Lydia manages at the last moment, earning one last half-smile from the redhead and a stern glare from Jia. A moment later Clary’s gone, through a portal and out of Alicante and, for now, out of Lydia’s life. It should be a relief, she imagines, but Lydia knows better than to think this is the last she’ll see of Clary one way or another. 


	38. Part Thirty-Eight: Isabelle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabelle struggles to make sense of what Jace and Simon tell her, but once she does know the full reality of the situation it doesn't make accepting it any easier.

When Simon and Jace return without warning one morning, Isabelle knows something’s wrong without either of them having to say a single word. They were keeping her updated on how things are going with a fire message here or a text there (when the alterations to the warding were working to let signals through, that is. The new magic Magnus put in place worked about as well as anything that needs reception does, it’s far from perfect but a step up from the total lack of technology that used to be allowed in and out of Idris). But she didn’t get so much as a ‘see you soon’ before they were both back on the doorstep of the Institute.

“Back so soon?” Isabelle asks, careful to keep her tone light and casual in the middle of passing Shadowhunters. It wouldn’t do for everyone to know that she’s immediately on edge at the sight of them, and more so given the looks on their faces: Simon looks hurt, and Jace a mixture of confused and angry. None of those emotions are ones she wants to see when it comes to what they were doing in Alicante. _Especially_ not considering the fact that if they’re both here without Clary then Clary is still in Idris, _alone_.

“I think this is a debriefing we should go back to your office for,” Jace says quietly. Isabelle looks from him to Simon who only confirms with a nod before turning on her heel and leading the way without another word.

Once the door is shut and silenced behind them Jace is the first to speak.

Or the first to snap is more like it, Isabelle realizes.

“She kicked us out!” He says, practically shouting in disbelief. “She told Lydia she didn’t want us there anymore, then gave me some bullshit about it being better this way.”

“She was acting really weird lately, but more than usual after last night. I think something’s wrong. Like, really wrong,” Simon chimes in. “I know she was upset when the Encanto didn’t work, but-”

“I didn’t even get to tell you that she _stole my stele_ to draw a rune on herself-” Jace adds, and Isabelle nearly gets whiplash looking back and forth between them trying to process their respective outbursts.

“Woah, wait a second. Take two steps back and tell me what happened since the last update you sent me.” Isabelle sits herself down at the chair behind her desk, getting the feeling that if she stays standing she’s just going to pace the entire time, and she knows how much that distracts people.

Simon starts first since his run-in with Clary’s sudden insistence in going behind Helen and the others’ backs came first. After Simon fills in his side of things Jace starts, and judging from the look on Simon’s face throughout Jace’s recounting of the events leading up to their departure it’s obvious this is the first he’s hearing about it, too.

“She lied to me,” Simon said, looking more upset about that than anything else.

“She lied to all of us,” Jace points out. “And I don’t think it was just about the runes. She looked like there was something she wanted to tell me but she kept stopping herself. And I have no idea what she wants to keep secret that badly, but it can’t be good. She--” Jace starts, but stops.

Isabelle knows the look on Jace’s face. Clary isn’t the only one keeping important things from others.

“I know you want to protect her, but we can’t do it from here. If there’s something I should tell Lydia and the others...” Isabelle starts slowly, knowing she has to be very careful with how she words this to Jace, especially while he’s emotional. He’s angry, upset, and feeling slighted, and that’s never a good combination with him. He’s just as likely to fly off the handle at her suggestion than he is to know she’s trying to help. “...something that can help them help Clary…” she adds, knowing that’s the selling point to get through to him.

“She’ll never speak to me again-” Jace says, shaking his head. “She wants this back so badly.”

Isabelle doesn’t press anymore, simply waiting for Jace to decide what he’s going to tell her on his own.

“I actually tried to draw the rune on her first, but it hurt. I’ve never had my stele hurt me before. And when she took it to use herself she didn’t just _draw_ the rune on - she _forced_ it on. There was so much resistance when she did it, and it reminded me of...” Jace swallows thickly, looking over at Simon. “It reminded me of when she put the Alliance runes on us before we went to Edom.”

“You think the Angels are trying to stop her again?” Isabelle asks, though she already knows the answer. The resistance to drawing new runes was one of the warnings Clary got before the Angels took her abilities away entirely. If they were putting that same resistance on her getting normal runes back…

“Why would she fight that?” Simon asks, shaking his head. “And why send us away?”

“Because we were trying to get her to stop. You wouldn’t use the Encanto again. I wouldn’t let her draw any more runes. She knew we’d care too much about keeping her safe to let her do anything stupid,” Jace points out.

“Yeah. Okay. That sounds like us. And like Clary,” Simon agrees.

Isabelle lets the two of them talk things out, meanwhile, she stands again and starts to pace despite her best efforts not to. The sharp click of her heel on the floor slows and picks up along with her processing thoughts.

“So now what?” She asks, exasperated.

“Well, if we aren’t there to help her, she can’t really _do_ much that Helen and the others won’t be aware of. So she’s probably fine now, right?” Simon suggests hopefully.

“Maybe…” Jace agrees though he doesn’t sound particularly convinced.

Isabelle doesn’t blame him. She isn’t sure she can give Clary - at least not _this_ Clary, one who doesn’t have the knowledge or the memory to know how dangerous a game she’s playing - enough credit to know when to stop.

It’s nearly midday, which means it’s dinner time in Idris. “We’ll give it a day, then I’ll check in with Lydia and see if they notice anything off,” Isabelle suggests, looking from Jace to Simon to see if they agreed. It’s her call, but she wasn’t the one in the thick of things in Alicante, they were. And she trusts both of them with her life, which means she trusts them with Clary’s.

They both nod in agreement, and after a few more formalities (including a more standard debriefing on everything else that happened while they were there) Jace heads off to catch up on what he missed here the last few days while Simon lingers behind.

“Are you alright?” Simon asks her, the question catching Isabelle by surprise.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She knows she doesn’t sound as casual as she might hope. Of course, she’s not alright - she promised Clary she’d be there for her, that they’d _help_ her, and now what? Now she’s off making decisions on her own, careless, reckless ones, and Isabelle is powerless to stop or help her. She wants Simon to drop it, to take her words at face value. Of course, he doesn’t.

“Because I know how much you hate not being there for her,” Simon points out. “And that you’re way more worried than your Head of the Institute hat will let you be, even around Jace and me.”

Isabelle shakes her head and narrows her eyes, but there’s no fire behind her glare. “When did you start reading me so well?” she sighs, walking back over to her chair and sinking into it. Simon follows behind her, bringing his hands up to her shoulders to massage them gently as he laughs.

“Jace can read you just as well, you know - he just stays quiet about it because he knows if he doesn’t bug you about your feelings you won’t bug him about his.”

“The Lightwood Way,” Isabelle agrees. “Since I know you aren’t going to drop this any time soon - yes, fine, I’m worried. And part of me wants her to succeed at whatever crazy scheme I’m sure she’s working on right now, even if it’s dangerous. And I know that’s selfish, but-”

“Hey, you don’t need to justify yourself to me. I get it. Hell, I even thought about trying the Encanto again when she asked. I wasn’t exactly being selfless when I agreed to try and mess with her mind to get her memories back,” he points out.

It’s true. Of course they all want to help Clary, but they also all want her back for their own reasons, too. And they’re all just as terrified of losing her a second time after coming so close.

“Thanks, Si.” Isabelle turns in her chair and tilts her head to the side, and Simon leans down and meets her lips with his own in a soft, comforting kiss.

“Any time,” Simon beams. “Now you go run your Institute so you’re free for dinner later while I go see what Lily needed to text me _seven times_ about last night.”

Izzy barely makes a dent in her work over the next few hours, obviously too distracted to focus, and is about to call it quits and go on a patrol to clear her head when she’s interrupted by a fire message from Aline.

_‘Luke is taking Clary back home, he’ll explain everything. Expect them soon.’_

Soon ends up being a matter of minutes. Isabelle barely has time to grab Jace and warn Underhill to expect the second transport portal from Idris that day before it’s opening and Clary and Luke are walking through.

Isabelle’s heart breaks immediately - she can see the pain etched into Clary’s features, able to tell from a single glance that she’s barely holding it together.

“Clary-” Isabelle starts, but Clary shakes her head.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says, voice trembling, before turning to walk out of the room where all eyes are on her.

“You don’t have a choice, Clary! You can’t just ignore this-” Luke starts, but Isabelle holds up a hand.

“Let her go. I can talk to her later.” Isabelle turns to Jace. “Can you stay with her, or would you rather I send someone else?” The meaning behind her question after their earlier conversation is clear: can you make sure she doesn’t get into trouble or do you think you’ll cave and do whatever she wants?

To his credit, Jace actually considers before answering. “I can stay with her.”

Luke looks hesitant. “Are you sure? You can’t let her-”

“I got this,” Jace insists. “If there’s an issue I’ll make sure she isn’t left alone.”

“Thanks,” Isabelle says, the word her approval to go. She trusts him. After their conversation earlier and Clary’s sudden arrival here now she has no doubt that Jace realizes what this means, and how important it is to keep Clary from doing anything rash until they’re all on the same page again.

Isabelle watches him follow down the hall Clary took off down before heading the opposite way with Luke to her office.

“Alright, what the _hell_ is going on here. I got some of the story from Jace and Simon, at least what they knew before they left earlier.”

“She didn’t leave me any choice,” Luke sighs. “I got a warning in my dream from the Angels. Do you know how terrifying that is? To have some higher power _in your head_ with ultimatums?”

She watches him barely suppress a shudder. For some the idea of a personal message from an angel would be considered an honor, but for those who fear them and their power, for those who know how temperamental they can be, it’s the exact opposite.

“I wanted to convince her to just stop and come back on my own, but she refused to see me. I had to go to them, or they would’ve kept going without any idea.” Luke shakes his head. “I didn’t tell this to Aline or Jia, but - the warning I got, it wasn’t from an angel who wanted to punish Clary, I don’t think. He was trying to stop her before that happened. He showed me -- he said if we didn’t stop trying to help they would wipe _all_ of our memories of her so we wouldn’t want to.”

And there it is. The worst-case scenario that none of them had even considered before Luke and his vision. The idea of getting her runes and memories back somehow hurting Clary crossed all of their minds, but this? The idea of _their_ memories being lost as well? No wonder Luke went right to Idris to get her.

“It could’ve been an empty threat. I wouldn’t put it past them to use me just to get what they want from Clary, but if that’s the case then it fucking worked.” Luke sounds tired and angry. It’s been a rough year for him to ease back into the life of a Shadowhunter and the Clave politics that go along with it. To have not only his life, but the lives of everyone he cares about potentially altered… she knows he doesn’t have that same infallible allegiance drilled into him that many his age do after a lifetime of serving the Nephilim.

Luke questions and fights the will of the angels so much easier than the rest of them, though Isabelle can’t help but remember how easy it was to question herself about a year ago when Clary first came into their lives.

“The Angels don’t usually make empty threats, Luke,” Isabelle points out. “You did the right thing.”

He did. She knows that, and maybe once Clary actually sits down and listens to one of them she’ll realize he did, too. And so did Simon and Jace.

And now so will Isabelle, as much as it hurts her and as much as she hates it.

“We’re going to have to keep her away. From us, from the Institute, from anything she might use to keep getting her memories or runes back. We need to get her back under the radar, and we need to convince her to stay there. At least that way-” Isabelle stops to take a shaky breath.

“At least that way we know she’s safe. We can’t protect her if we forget her,” Luke finishes for her.

Isabelle nods and leads Luke out of the office, knowing that if she gives herself too much time to debate and second-guess that she’ll try talking herself out of it.

When they get out to the ops center Isabelle is surprised to find Jace there without Clary.

“She’s with Underhill,” Jace says before they can ask. “And it wasn’t because I broke,” he adds quickly. “She just didn’t want me there.”

Isabelle can see how much that hurts him, but she can also tell that he doesn’t resent her for it. And if he did then he certainly doesn’t after they fill him in on what happened after he left Alicante.

“I’m going to go fill your brother in,” Luke says. “I had a meeting with Magnus today anyway, he called me earlier about some warlocks who heard rumors of a pack outside the city getting injured. You two take care - of her _and_ yourselves.”

“We will,” Isabelle promises.

She knows what needs to be done before she gets the ‘official’ orders from Jia when Aline and Lydia both arrive to deliver the debriefing in person.

“You can’t keep her here-”

“I know.” Isabelle has long since lost track of how many times she’s repeated these two words.

“It isn’t safe-”

“I’m _aware_. But look how far she came without our help before. If I force her out like this she’s just going to rebel. She needs to _understand_. That’s been her problem this whole time,” Isabelle insists.

“And what if she never _‘understands’_?” Aline argues.

“Two days. Give me two days,” Isabelle pleads. Aline reluctantly agrees after some convincing from Lydia before they both return to Idris pending further orders.

It turns out two days are entirely unnecessary.

By the end of the night Clary’s knocking on the door to Izzy’s office, and the hope she feels at the fact that she was patient enough to let Clary come to her, something she thought would be good, quickly fades at the first words out of Clary’s mouth.

“I need to leave.”

Isabelle can feel her heart sink in her chest.

She doesn’t know why - Clary leaving is the goal, after all. But the eagerness with which Clary suddenly _wants_ to leave upsets her.

“I thought I could stay here, maybe. No more runes, or steles, or memories, I get all of that, but when I came back I thought maybe I could still just… I don’t know. _Be here_. As I am.” Clary seems to be having some trouble articulating whatever is going on in her head. “But I can’t. I’m not meant to be here. Or, maybe I am, but your stupid Angels don’t want me here, so I can’t. And I can’t stay here and have Jace, or Andrew, or whoever else babysit me 24/7. So I’m leaving. And if you have to take away all of my memories again to keep your little angel club a secret, then… I guess I can’t stop you.” Clary looks up at her then, eyes meeting. “But I hope you don’t.”

And that’s what this is about. It isn’t about Clary wanting to leave - it’s about what she’s afraid they’ll do to her once she’s gone.

“I can’t make any guarantees,” Isabelle says honestly. “It won’t be my decision to make. But if it is, if I have _any_ say, I promise I’ll let you keep as much as I can. But you have to promise me something in return.”

Clary looks at her warily. “What?”

“You need to stop looking. Stop going to the old Jade Wolf, don’t go near any abandoned buildings that call out to you, just… go back to your art, and your school, and your friends. Go back to your life, and steer clear of anything strange.

Isabelle can tell from the conflicted look on Clary’s face that her suggestion goes against everything Clary wants, and probably plans, on doing. But it’s the only way to keep her from losing what little she gained since her memories started returning to her, and even then it isn’t a given, just more likely.

It’s Clary’s best chance at getting what she wants, but will she end up ruining it by risking it all for that hope of just a little more?

“I don’t know if I can. I know you can’t help me anymore, but-” Clary tries to argue but Isabelle cuts her off.

“Do you know what Luke saw? It wasn’t just a warning for you, it was for all of us. Right now you’re still under the radar enough that you’re okay. But anything more, or remembering the _wrong_ thing, and they aren’t just going to wipe your memories of us to keep you away - they’re going to take our memories of you this time, too.”

Isabelle is trying to sound firm, to really emphasize the seriousness of what’s happening right now, but instead of demanding there are tears in her eyes and a slight waver to her words.

Clary’s defiant expression softens. “I didn’t know…” she says quietly.

“No, you didn’t. Because you wouldn’t just talk to him. Or Jace. Or any of us.” _Or me_ , Izzy thinks to herself, the sorrow she feels only deepening. “So please, if not for yourself then for all of us, promise me you’ll at least try.”

Clary nods almost immediately. “Yeah. Yes, of course, I will. I’ll just go back to school… and maybe if I go to visit Simon he’ll have some friends over, and I can get to know them a little better sometime?”

Isabelle isn’t sure that can ever happen but she gives Clary a small half-smile and nods just the same. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

They hesitate, and very carefully Clary moves forward to hug Isabelle goodbye. She tries to be careful but her chin brushes against the side of Clary’s head just for a second, and Clary freezes as Isabelle moves to pull back again.

It’s just a second. The brush of contact is light enough that whatever Clary sees - while momentarily painful as always it doesn’t knock her out completely, _thank the Angel_ \- only lasts a second or two, but when she looks back up at Isabelle it’s with matching watery eyes and an expression that Izzy knows mirrors her own sense of true loss.

“Iz, I-” Clary starts, but Isabelle shakes her head and turns away, unable to face Clary while she’s looking at her like that. Not after the conversation they just had and the solution they both know they have to stick to. She can’t get weak now.

“I think you should go,” Isabelle says, voice as steady as she can manage with more force than she wants to admit.

“We were-”

It doesn’t matter what Clary saw. Isabelle closes her eyes, sees a scrunched up nose at a wedding, a battle in a forest for Clary’s very soul that nearly consumes Isabelle in holy fire, and a parabatai. A soulmate. She opens her eyes but remains facing away.

“I’ll see you later, Clary.”

She thinks it’s a lie. She hopes it isn’t, but the possibility is there that she’ll never be allowed to see Clary again, and that hurts more than keeping her back turned until she hears Clary’s boots take slow steps back towards the door before it shuts. She doesn’t have to make sure Clary leaves, someone - Jace, or Underhill probably - will be waiting for her.

There’s a knock on the door a few minutes after Clary leaves that she ignores entirely. She refuses to let anyone see her like this, but she can’t keep the tears from falling.

When Simon finds her an hour later, Isabelle is still on the sofa cradling her head in her hands. She lets Simon come in, hoping he won’t judge her too harshly. Isabelle knows she has to pull herself together but just for tonight she allows herself mourn the loss of Clary’s presence in her life a second - and probably final - time.


	39. Part Thirty-Nine: Luke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke gets a surprising call from Clary, but his focus has to shift after some news from Magnus leaves him working a case that’s potentially bigger than all of them.

Luke is back in Alicante much sooner than he’d like. Not that he doesn’t appreciate his role here, and how seamlessly Alec and the others worked to ensure he had the easiest transition back into Shadowhunter life, but he _does_ sometimes wish that transition involved being stationed permanently at the New York Institute. 

“How did Isabelle take it?” Alec asks him, concerned. 

“She’s the one who told me it had to be done. I could tell she was upset but she seemed alright when I left her, all things considered. Don’t know about Jace, though. Clary wasn’t even talking to him.” Luke admits. 

“I’ll check in with Jace on my way to the Consul’s office. I’m sure Jia will want to discuss this sooner rather than later, I’ll touch base with Lydia and see if I can’t beat her to the punch.” 

If there’s one thing Luke didn’t anticipate, it was that updating Alec about everything going on with Clary would be the _least_ troubling part of his day. He didn’t think that it’d go over well, both the part about Luke himself getting whatever that warning of a vision had been or the part about them having to turn Clary away again after everything they’d done to help her… but Alec took it in stride. Of course, looking back at it, Luke isn’t sure _why_ he’s surprised by how well Alec reacted. Ever since taking the position of Inquisitor Alec has been a pillar of surprising strength in the Shadowhunter community, not just in regard to the changes he’s trying to enact, but to his friends and family as well. 

So, of course, he’s going to process and nod and compartmentalize any personal feelings he might have because they both know he’s going to have to be there for his siblings, both of whom are going to feel Clary’s loss in their lives this time around even more than he does. 

“If there’s anything else I can help with here with Jia, just say the word,” Luke offers. 

Alec frowns, shifting a worried glance between him and Magnus before shaking his head. “I think you’re going to have enough on your plate,” Alec says slowly. 

Luke doesn’t like the implications of that one bit. It’d make sense if Alec’s only taking things with Clary in stride because it isn’t the biggest thing he has to deal with just then, which is a terrifying thought, all things considered. 

“Magnus will fill you in,” Alec adds, and Luke watches him lean in to give Magnus a quick kiss goodbye before Magnus opens up a portal, likely back to Idris, for Alec to vanish through without another word. 

“Fill me in on what?” Luke asks warily. 

“I got word from Lorenzo that there have been a few attacks on Warlocks along the East Coast,” Magnus starts. 

If that’s the only issue then there’s no reason to tell him - he might help deal with some of the Downworld issues from his previous connections as a pack leader but a problem within the warlock community is something that Magnus himself should be able to step in and help with if Lorenzo isn’t able to. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Turns out, it isn’t just the Warlocks. Simon told me that Lily came to him about an attack on some vampires with artificial daylight that burned them at night, but they were new and not making any sense and they wrote it off as fledgelings just being reckless and getting caught outside at sunrise or sunset. I just spoke with Meliorn who admitted there was a small fire outside one of the Seelie Realm entrances but it didn’t spread. Small issues, nothing to bring attention to, so they’ve been dealing with it on their own before. But since we got wind of both we’re wondering if it might be less random and more of a pattern.” Magnus’ voice is somber. 

“You think someone’s targeting Downworlders,” Luke pieces together. “The wolves-” 

“Nothing from them that I know of,” Magnus says, and Luke feels a pang of guilt for the relief that brings. He knows that he has a connection to them that he doesn’t to the others, no matter how impartial he tries to be now that his life is that of a Shadowhunter again. Magnus offers him a small smile of understanding. 

“But that might only mean they’re next, or keeping something to themselves as well. We certainly need to warn Maia and any nearby packs just in case,” Magnus continues. “It might be nothing, but if it isn’t… there’s no telling how widespread this might be, so we need to get ahead of it.” 

Luke nods. He can see why Alec was preoccupied earlier. His mind is already off of Clary and focusing on a million theories as to who, or what, might be behind this. 

“I’ll meet up with Maia as soon as we’re done here, see if she knows anything she might be keeping to herself,” Luke offers. It’s just easier for him to talk to the wolves in particular - they still trust him, despite being a Shadowhunter now, more than anyone else in the Shadow World outside of their own pack. It’s something he uses to his advantage in his position under Alec more and more often while bridges are built and they attempt to close as many gaps as they can between the Shadowhunters and the rest of the Shadow World. 

“I hate to say it, but something like this might be just the test we need to prove that all those policies Alec keeps preaching are going to be worth something in practice,” Magnus admits. “We’re going to need you on this one, Lucian.” 

Luke nods. He knows that he’s been instrumental given his unique existence as a shadowhunter-turned-werewolf-turned-shadowhunter-again in being someone who understands both sides of the coin intimately. He has family and friends in the Mundane and Shadow worlds, and not just among the wolves either. Sure, he’s been accused of his share of biases, but for the most part parties on all sides trust him to be relatively level-headed and impartial. 

With Clary out of the picture that task is even easier now. 

“Of course, Mangus. Whatever you need.” He knows something like this is always easier said than done, but they’ve been working towards it for the better part of the last year now. He knows they can make it work, and he knows they can see it through. 

“Good. Right now we’re just trying not to spread unnecessary alarm - we want people alert, not afraid. It could all be isolated, however unlikely I find that idea personally, but we can’t afford a panic until we have more facts.” 

“Agreed.” Luke knows first hand what that sort of fear will do, and he knows Magnus does too, remembering the time they sided with the Seelie Queen over the Shadowhunters in a move that nearly destroyed them all - all out of fear - forcing rash actions that hurt more than help, playing right into the hands of whoever may be behind these incidents.

“Alec is doing as much damage control as he can with the Shadowhunters. Who knows how much of what just happened Jia is going to try and hold against us and use as pushback.” Magnus sighs. “So he’s out of the picture for a little while in the hopes of making all of that a non-issue. In the meantime we need to see if we can reach out to other Institutes, maybe the ones we’ve been testing Downworlder Councils in, to see if they’re hearing anything similar.” 

Luke knows he shouldn’t be enjoying the thrill of excitement that the idea of being on the edge of something potentially revolutionary like this, but he can’t help it. It almost feels like it did back in the days of the Circle, only this time he knows he’s on the right side of things. 

It feels _good_ to know that the time he put into supporting these ‘radical’ (in the eyes of the Council) changes of Alec’s might pay off sooner rather than later. 

“I’ll reach out to our contacts and let you know what I hear back.” It’s also nice to be doing what feels almost like detective work again. He misses his work on the force, even if he knows what he’s doing now is, arguably, much more important.

“Thank you,” Magnus says, and seems to actually look a little more relieved now that he knows Luke is working on this with them. 

There’s a finality in the pause after that which tells Luke that’s all he has for now, so a moment later Luke is getting ready to leave. Alec was right - there’s more than enough on his plate now, and he doesn’t want to waste any time getting a start on it. 

“Take care of yourself, Lucian.” 

“You too, Magnus.” 

\---

Luke knows that he should be focusing on making sure Maia has things covered with the pack, or touching base with Lily, Meliorn, and Lorenzo, or reaching out to the other Institutes... but the moment his phone rings and it’s Clary’s name on the screen he answers without hesitation. 

“Hey Kiddo,” he greets, a fond smile on his face that she can’t see but can hopefully hear in his tone. 

“Luke,” Clary breathes out, almost as if she’s surprised he answered. He can hear her give a sigh of relief before speaking again. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright. I get it,” he dismisses easily. He doesn’t get it, how could he? But he understands _enough_ to forgive her without a second thought. 

“It isn’t alright. Isabelle told me…” he hears the break in her words, the sniffle, the way she stops speaking entirely to hide the fact that he is almost positive she’s crying, or about to cry. “I didn’t know. If I had any idea it wasn’t just me-” 

“I know, Clary. I know why you did it. Hell, I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing if I were in your shoes.” It’s true. If he had love and friends and family on the line he probably would’ve said ‘screw you’ to the Angels, too. Especially after everything they put his loved ones through over the years. 

“Sorry I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye,” Clary says suddenly. 

“It isn’t like we can never see each other again,” Luke points out, not liking the tone of finality that Clary’s suddenly speaking with. “We shouldn’t for a while, but once things calm down again we can figure something out.” 

Something about this conversation isn’t sitting well with him. Either Clary is planning on doing something reckless or she actually plans of fading away from their lives, and either one of those options is _not_ okay, not for him. He gets that she has to stay away from the Institute and the other Shadowhunters, but he’s like a father to her - he’s her _family_. She can’t actually want to stay away from him forever, can she? 

“You’re one of them,” Clary says through the phone with another heavy sigh. “If you weren’t, it’d be different, but… you are. I shouldn’t. _You_ shouldn’t. I have to go.” 

“Clary-” Luke tries, but the line is already dead. “Shit.” 

He thought it’d be better to have her out of their world than in it, all things considered, but now he’s just realizing that the more removed she is the less control he has over protecting her. It’s a lose-lose. Sure, they keep their memories this way, but what good are memories if they’re just going to torture both of them at every turn? 

It should be the last he sees of Clary… except it seems as if Clary may not be holding to her end of the bargain after all. He thinks he spots her across the street from Maryse’s bookstore while he’s stopping in for lunch the next day, and when he brings it up to Maryse she agrees. 

“I thought I saw her twice earlier, but I wasn't positive. I didn’t go out to check because I didn’t want to scare her away if it was,” Maryse admits, a soft frown on her face. “Don’t worry. I’ll still try to keep an eye on her. It’ll be more difficult now that she knows who I am, but…” Maryse sighs. “We aren’t going to just abandon her.” 

It’s reassuring for him to hear. He knows that his role in all of this is complicated, on a personal and professional level. And as much as Maryse mostly stays out of the politics of Shadowhunter life he supposes that’s why she’s so eager to lend a hand with Clary now that it’s once more very clear that Clary isn’t going to be part of ‘Shadowhunter life’. 

“Thank you, Maryse,” he says, leaning in to place a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. He has no idea what he’d do without her support. Maybe it comes from years of dealing with everything he finds himself wrapped up in now but he doesn’t have a single doubt that Maryse isn’t going to shy away from whatever trouble might pop up next, and he hopes she knows how grateful he is for that. 

When he drops by the Institute after the bookshop he finds out he isn’t the only one spotting Clary around the city in conspicuous places. 

“She isn’t going anywhere she shouldn’t be, but I thought I saw her a few blocks away from the Institute when I was coming back from patrol,” Isabelle admitted. “And then Simon circled around the block to catch her trying to sneak away before anyone noticed.” 

“She looked like she had runes,” Simon says. “So I tried to get closer - it looks like she might’ve drawn them on, like temporary tattoos or something.” 

Luke frowns. “She doesn’t want to forget this time. She called me and pretty much said goodbye - she gets it, at least, how serious this is. She doesn’t want to lose what he has so she’s being careful.” 

“But she can’t let it go, either,” Isabelle points out. “She’s going to drive herself insane this way.” 

“Or get herself killed. If I was any other vamp-” Simon adds, but doesn’t finish that thought.

He doesn’t have to. 

“It’s going to have to be fine for now. I don’t think we should risk a proper detail to keep an eye on her, but maybe have Underhill check in once and a while? Except we’re going to need all of security on high alert as it is,” he muses, remembering why he’s here in the first place. “Because I actually didn’t come to talk about Clary. I just got word that some of the vampires are trying to claim a warlock is behind this artificial daylight that’s being used against them, and since the wolves are the only ones unaffected yet some suspect they may be Tensions are high - Isabelle, any way you can reach out and try to call a Cabinet meeting to try and work this out before it gets out of hand?” 

“I’ll talk to the clan, too,” Simon offers. “We’re going to have to help each other - not accuse each other - if these attacks ramp up.” 

Luke nods, not for the first time wishing that Simon was in charge of things with the Brooklyn vampire clan. It’d make things so much easier for them, but he’s also more than a little biased. As easy as Simon would be to work with Luke knows that Simon doesn’t have the cutthroat nature that’s, unfortunately, necessary for a proper leadership role among the vampires. 

Lily can be sweet when she wants to be, but she can also be downright terrifying when she _has_ to be.

It’s the next day when Isabelle finally hears back from all of the Downworld Representatives, with Meliorn’s reply coming in last. While Lorenzo and Lily are eager to meet, Maia left town to meet with the Praetor to see if they know of anyone who might be to blame for the rogue attacks lately and Meliorn doesn’t seem too eager to jump to the aid of the others over his own, refusing to leave until he finishes the reworking of some of the magic around the entrances to the Seelie Relm. They all resolve to convene in two days. 

A lot can happen in two days. 

Luke hopes this is just an outlier to deal with like the others suspect - someone with a vendetta, and nothing more. He wants to push for something sooner but it isn’t his place to argue, so instead he just passes that information along to Magnus and does what he always does:

Hopes for the best and prepares for the worst. 


	40. Part Forty: Maia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Seelies, Vampires, Warlocks, and now Werewolves all reporting attacks, an emergency Downworld Cabinet meeting is called. Tensions are high as they try to figure out who, or what, is behind them...

Maia dials the number on her phone with shaky fingers, doing her best to stay as calm as possible, hoping her voice doesn’t betray her the moment the other end picks up and Isabelle’s smooth voice greets her through the phone.

“Maia, how are things with the Praetor?” Isabelle asks, assuming this is just a generic call to update her, as promised, on what she finds out during her visit.

“Not good,” Maia says quickly. “Not just with the Praetor, but- my pack was attacked last night. Traps set up in the woods, some asshole made _silver bombs_ , Iz.” Maia’s voice is shaking.

“Is everyone alright?”

“No one died, but not for lack of trying. I’m catching the next bus I can back home but this place is so goddamn remote I don’t know when that’s going to be, so if you can get the cabinet together before I get back then do it. The Praetor says they’ve been hearing cases for the past few weeks about attacks on Downworlders - they thought it was the usual, just a heightened batch of newly turned vampires and werewolves, maybe a rogue or two trying to make a stir over something personal… it has to be connected. We don’t get lucky enough for things like this to be random, one-time things.”

She feels guilty over the fact that, until this hit her pack personally, she was one of those willing to write it off and prioritize looking into the wolves first and foremost. But it makes sense, the idea that they might be connected. She should’ve listened to Lily when the vampire called her up, outraged when Isabelle said Maia wasn’t coming back to town sooner.

“No, we don’t. And I was afraid of this, too.” Isabelle says. “I want you here for this meeting, though. As much as I’m fine with Bat standing in for you, well…”

Maia sighs. Isabelle doesn’t have to finish that sentence for her to know what she’s implying. Bat is a great second in command, and Maia trusts him with her life - but the others on the cabinet don’t see him the same way she does. They don’t trust him, and he gets spoken over and outright ignored whenever he’s involved in discussions with Lorenzo and the others.

“Plus, I need _you_ there. The Shadowhunters seem to be the only ones _not_ being targeted, which means all suspicions have shifted to us as the prime suspects. I need a friend here, Maia.”

Maia can hear the hint of pleading in Isabelle’s tone.

“Alright. I’ll see what I can-”

“I can get you a portal,” Isabelle offers, and Maia groans. Of course that’s where Isabelle was going with all of this - she knows how much Maia hates them and avoids them at all costs. A prime example being her public transportation journey out to the far end of Long Island Sound and the fact that she didn’t even consider it as an option to get back faster.

“I’m in the middle of nowhere-” Maia tries to argue, but she already knows the counter before she hears it.

“I’m sure Magnus has been to the Praetor Lupus Headquarters,” Isabelle insists, and Maia can only sigh because she knows that she’s right. And even if this wasn’t just about getting back for a Cabinet meeting, Maia knows she should be getting back as quickly as possible for the sake of her pack. She knows Bat has it all under control but she should be there. Honestly, she never should’ve left, but sometimes her stubbornness works against her instead of for her.

“Fine. See if he can, and call me back. I’ll give you half an hour before I leave to catch a bus.”

Maia hangs up the phone and no less than 5 minutes pass before there’s a shift in the air in front of her where she sits on the steps of the building.

“Things must be dire if you’re letting me portal you back to the Institute,” Magnus quips the moment he steps through. There’s no amusement on his face, though - it isn’t a joke, he knows what’s going on and he’s worried, too.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Maia grumbles, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes before stepping through the magic.

She hates it. She hates the way she feels dizzy and nauseous and like her entire sense of life balance is thrown off for the second she’s in-between locations. Spilling out by the front steps of the Institute Maia takes a few seconds to steady and calm herself, fighting the urge to throw up.

Magnus is by her side handing her a small capped vial of liquid. “For your stomach. Grabbed it on my way out when Isabelle called,” he says, and Maia downs it without a second thought.

“Thank you,” she says. “I would’ve been fine,” she adds quickly, that tough bravado back in an instant.

“Of course you would’ve,” Magnus agrees, pocketing the now-empty vial before turning away from her, back towards the portal she realizes now is still open.

“Not coming in with me?” Maia questions.

“Unfortunately, no. Alexander and I have a briefing in Alicante over this very matter. You’ll get the full rundown from Isabelle but…” Magnus hesitates, and for a second Maia thinks he might actually not tell her whatever it is he knows. A moment later he’s continuing. “It looks like this isn’t just contained to New York.”

“That’s what the Praetor are starting to suspect,” she admits. “They still insist it’s just rogue newbies but…”

Magnus shakes his head. “Too organized. Too advanced.”

She hates that she agrees because it would be easier if that weren’t the case.

“Give everyone my best,” Magnus says before vanishing back through the portal, leaving her standing alone at the steps of the Institute.

She knocks on the door and is greeted, as usual, by two Shadowhunters who give serious consideration on whether or not to let her in right away. She wonders if it has anything to do with that whole ‘everyone blaming Shadowhunters’ thing Izzy hinted at over the phone.

“We aren’t expecting anyone from the Cabinet for another hour…” he stalls.

“Isabelle’s expecting me, she sent for me early,” she says. “I’m not going to bite,” she adds with a bit of a smirk. It’s old and cliche but never fails to get a rise from some of the more skittish newly assigned Nephilim.

As if on cue the sound of heels clicking on the floor starts to echo from a side hallway, and soon Isabelle is in sight.

“Thank the Angel you’re here,” Isabelle visibly relaxes at the sight of her. “I’ve been doing damage control all day. I hope you brought your A-game because this is not going to be a pretty meeting.”

“It’s going to be fine. We’re all level-headed-” Maia starts, and Isabelle gives a huff of a laugh at that already. “-leaders capable of rational thought. Once we’re all sat down and talking it out we’ll figure something out.”

“I hope you’re right,” Izzy says. Over the course of the next hour Meliorn arrives next, then an uncharacteristically quiet Lorenzo, and finally Lily the moment the sun fully sets.

“Thanks for waiting,” Lily says. “I was going to suggest we meet at the Dumort earlier but, well… I didn’t think having the lot of you around the clan right now was a good idea.”

Isabelle shakes her head. “No,” she agrees. “Probably not.”

“Not like meeting _here_ is any safer for the rest of us,” Lorenzo adds, almost under his breath but just loud enough for them to hear.

“We’re all on the same side here, Lorenzo,” Maia reminds him.

“Are we?” Lorenzo challenges. “Because this whole situation is starting to seem far too reminiscent of the early Circle days.”

Lily shakes her head. “No, there was something magical about that artificial sunlight used to attack my people. This isn’t just the Shadowhunters-”

“What do you mean, _just_ the-” Isabelle starts, but catches herself and takes a deep breath instead of continuing. “None of the Shadowhunters from the New York Institute have attacked _any_ Downworlders unprovoked. You have my personal guarantee.”

“It isn’t just us,” Maia chimes in. “I mean, it isn’t just in the city. The Praetor Lupus have been hearing reports from all across the US, and it might go farther than that. They were writing it off as just rogue Downworlders, newly turned vampires or werewolves or warlocks coming into their powers without knowing how to control them.”

“But we’re in agreement,” Meliorn speaks up for the first time since he arrived. “That this isn’t random, these are deliberate attacks?”

Everyone nods.

“So that’s where we start,” Isabelle declares, taking control of the meeting again.

A lot of things are discussed. Lorenzo’s High Warlock contacts in other parts of the world have noticed an attack or two, usually unsuccessful, so they haven’t been worrying about it. He did admit it's more difficult to keep track of the warlocks - they're known to portal off to who-knows-where without warning, so disappearances, even deaths, are almost never noted promptly. The vampires, on the other hand, are having the opposite problem. The first few reports were all newly turned vampires, ones easily dismissed as possibly just lying to cover up staying out too late. Even the two reported deaths were written off. But when some of the eldest in the Brooklyn Clan came back two nights ago with burn scars that left them in serious danger before their healing kicked in, well, things started to seem a bit more serious. Meliorn reluctantly admits that some of the less frequently traveled corners of the Seelie Realm fell victim to a number of small fires that, if not immediately detected, could’ve decimated acres of land. No attacks on the Seelies themselves, but the attacks on their plants and animals may be worse in many ways.

In the process of sharing this information, there are debates - fingers pointed, accusations made, voices raised - but Isabelle is always quick to bring them back down, calm and focused. It’s impressive, really, how well she fits herself into this role that so many always expected to fall solely on Alec or Jace. But Isabelle is nothing if not a commanding presence, and that works wonders during their current discussion.

Thankfully she doesn’t have to worry about Maia. At least, not at this moment. Maia has to admit that she has her reservations - the Shadowhunters have a track record of keeping information private until they absolutely have to share it, and as much as she trusts Isabelle individually she has to admit the same doesn’t go for the rest of them. But she’s going to start with the benefit of the doubt.

“There were a few traps set up in the woods where my pack always goes during the full moon,” Maia informs them. “Silver bombs. Crudely made, Bat said, and the ratio was off so they didn’t do any serious damage. But they could’ve. And if something like that went off and started a wolf too close to the city…” Maia doesn’t want to think about the repercussions of that. “But others haven’t been so lucky. A few cases of silver poisoning were reported in some of the northern Pennsylvania packs. Might be more but it’s more difficult to get in touch with a lot of them - wolves tend to move a lot, or live in more remote areas.”

When it’s clear Maia’s finished all eyes turn to Isabelle. “I know. _I know_. We’re are the only ones not being targeted so far as we know. We’re reaching out to the other Institutes, checking in with the Downworld Cabinets in trial status, and there are orders to report any and all AWOL Shadowhunters to the Council immediately. We’re doing everything we can.”

“I’m inclined to believe you-” Lorenzo starts.

“Of course you are. Is there some sort of new code that all High Warlocks have to start shacking up with a resident Shadowhunter-” Meliorn begins, but Lorenzo doesn’t allow him to get any further than that.

“You’d do well to watch your tongue, Meliorn,” Lorenzo advises, tone sharp. “And if you’d allow me to _continue_ , you would know it has nothing to do with any personal attachments. I put in a request with the Spiral Labyrinth to look into possible protection spells - tailored for _each_ of our kinds - while this threat remains active. Only to find out that Magnus Bane is already looking into the same, in addition to ways to dampen Nephilim abilities, possibly cancel them out entirely.” Lorenzo nods his approval. “It seems as if all precautions are indeed being taken.”

Maia’s eyes widen in surprise, as to all of the other Downworlders at the table.

...as do Isabelle’s.

Maia is struck with the very distinct impression that this is the first time Isabelle is hearing any of this, but she recovers quickly.

“As I said, if a Nephilim is behind this it will be handled appropriately,” Isabelle states matter-of-factly, but Maia knows her well enough to catch the way her fingers grip the edge of the table a little too hard for a little too long.

Maia is about to chime in with something, she isn’t sure what yet but just something to shift the focus when there’s a knock at the door. Isabelle looks to be a mixture of annoyed and relieved by the interruption.

“We’re almost done,” she calls out. Right now none of them can imagine a situation direr than the one they’re currently facing, so when the knock sounds again, just as hesitant as the first time, it isn’t a good sign that someone isn’t willing to wait a few more minutes for whatever it is.

“Iz-” The voice muffled through the door is one Maia recognizes immediately as Simon’s.

Isabelle takes short, purposeful strides towards the door before opening it just a crack.

“Simon, I thought I made it clear-”

“You did. This is an emergency.” Simon looks past her to the stressed and anxious expressions of the others, and when his eyes fall on Maia she can see the poorly concealed fear there. “Can we talk outside?”

“Keeping secrets again,” Meliorn comments, just loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Isabelle bites down on her lower lip, obviously not knowing what Simon may be about to say, but also knowing how fragile the trust in the room is right now. Even Maia has to admit it wouldn’t look good for her to immediately try and hide something that’s obviously important.

“It’s fine, Simon. You can tell me here,” Isabelle says, taking the gamble. Maia eyes Simon warily.

Simon hesitates but finally nods.

“I got a call from Clary’s roommate. Apparently she left a note to call me if anything _weird_ ever happened. Weird, like how when they were walking home from a party the other night Clary started acting really strange, and then asked if she saw anyone at the other end of the alley, and then after walking a little more she didn’t hear the sound of Clary’s heels anymore. Hasn’t seen her since, like she just vanished into thin air.”

Maia can feel the mood in the room shift. Clary, and the way the Shadowhunters are always so inclined to protect and defend her at all costs, is something that doesn’t sit well with most of the people in this room. Maia is obviously an exception, but while she’s worried about a drunk mundane Clary it’s hardly anything to interrupt this particular meeting over, and even she has to wonder if the Shadowhunters weren't solely focused on Clary's sudden reemergence if this whole situation would've been noticed sooner. 

“Simon, this can wait until-”

“Underhill reviewed some cameras in the area. Shadowhunters glamoured themselves about a block away, and there was a portal opened and closed at the head of the alley she never came out of.” Simon continues, taking a deep breath. “Clary was kidnapped.”

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s unrelated. But Maia’s words to Isabelle from earlier over the phone come back to her suddenly, a concern she wonders if the others are already thinking: _we don’t get lucky enough for things like this to be random_.


	41. Part Forty-One: Clary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clary does her best to stay away from the Shadow World as promised, but that doesn't do her much good when the Shadow World comes looking for her.

When Isabelle’s hand brushed against her it was only for a fraction of a second, but it was enough. The pain came along with the brief flashes of memory, short but so full of emotion that Clary’s still reeling from them as Isabelle tells her to leave.

Parabatai. They were going to be parabatai.

Clary might not know the full meaning of that, but she can _feel_ what it means, the weight of it, all at once. It all makes sense now. The looks Isabelle gave her, the way she kept stepping in to protect and defend her, even though she’s the head of the institute and she needs to be impartial… and for Clary to be around her all this time and not know, not _realize_ what they had before…

It hurts, more than the physical pain of getting the memory when Isabelle insists that Clary leaves without another word.

But Clary does.

She gathers her things, what little she brought with to Alicante and still has with her here, and goes to leave.

“Don’t you want to say goodbye?” The man who’s been following her around asks. He’s kind, and only doing his job but he doesn’t understand how heartbreaking the question is. No, she doesn’t want to say goodbye. She shouldn’t have to. It isn’t _fair_.

Maybe Isabelle has the right idea - goodbyes are too difficult right now.

“Tell them I’m sorry,” is all she says before walking out the door.

\---

Clary can’t stay away. She tries to. She goes back to her room, back to a very confused roommate who seems more than a little worried about the disappearing acts Clary keeps pulling, back to classes she’s behind in and projects she’s going to need a terrifying number of all-nighters to catch up on. It’s enough to keep her busy for weeks if she lets it.

Except she doesn’t let it. Clary goes to class… but instead of going to the studio afterward she sneaks off towards the Institute, looking out for Isabelle or Simon or Jace to be coming or going. They’re normally good about glamouring themselves but sometimes if they’re just running out for food or something quick rather than fully geared up for a mission they don’t bother.

She catches a few glimpses of them but leaves before anyone can spot her.

Clary does the same with Maryse’s bookshop, the only place she knows she’s bound to find Luke at. All her memories of him from before are of the police station, and of the Jade Wolf, and both of those are dead ends now. She may not know much about his life now but she clings desperately to what little she does.

Even though she was the one who turned down Luke’s offer to meet up again one day, she can’t bring herself to _actually_ never see him again. She just wants to know that he’s okay - that he isn’t in trouble, or hurt by whatever weird dream visions he’s having because of her, or by the Angels themselves. She needs to know that her leaving on her own is enough to put a stop to anything that might hurt the people who care about her.

Luke seems fine. Isabelle and Simon seem fine. Everyone seems fine.

...so why doesn’t that make her feel any better?

Part of her doesn’t want them to be able to move on from her that easily. They did it once before, at this point she hasn’t been part of their lives for the majority of the past year and for most of them she was only part of their lives for a few months before that. She’s a passing acquaintance, and that’s all they should be to her, too.

Except the handful of memories she got back come to her every time she closes her eyes. She sees them in her dreams. She tries to stay away but finds herself drawing runes and Seelie forests and images of Alicante instead of the projects she’s meant to be working on. In her free time she closes her eyes, pictures where the runes used to be on her body from those memories, and draws them onto her skin with ink. Maybe she’ll get them tattooed, she considers… and then stops, because even she knows that’s excessive. She does draw them out, however, marking down the exact location of each and every one of them just in case she forgets.

The last thing Clary wants is to forget anything more than she already has.

Clary is very aware of the fact that she should stay farther away from Simon and the others than she is. Maybe it’s risky, but she isn’t going to the Institute, or to Maia’s diner, or any of the places she _knows_ she shouldn’t be. She’s holding up most of her end of this bargain to keep them all from getting in trouble, and Clary thinks that it’s good enough for now.

When she starts to get the feeling that she’s being watched she marks it up to paranoia at first. Then she thinks that maybe the Shadowhunters have people following her again - it wouldn’t be the first time, maybe someone noticed her lingering around. Something isn’t sitting right with her, though, so she decides to stop for a while, thinking in the back of her mind that she hopes they’re proud of her for cutting her losses and _actually_ keeping her distance.

She stops trying to get close to the others and just sticks to her room, and her classes, and the local cafe. It should be enough to shake that feeling of being watched, since surely anyone tailing her to make sure she stays away would be bored of watching her drink her weight in coffee and sketch long into the night - but the feeling of unease doesn’t go away.

It gets worse, in fact. Even Rebecca notices it. She doesn’t seem overly concerned but she brings it up the first day Clary’s back from Idris and the Institute, while they’re both walking home from the studio after Clary stays too late to finish a project and Rebecca shows up to forcibly drag her back to their room to get some sleep.

“Honestly, I’m glad you decided to come back for the night. Not that I’m not a big girl who can spend a night on her own,” Rebecca adds quickly, already anticipating the friendly taunt. “But because I keep feeling like I’m being watched lately. I knew I shouldn’t have let Rob drag me out to that indie horror marathon over the weekend - totally got in my head.” Rebecca laughs, but Clary wonders if maybe her own concerns aren’t as in her head as she first thought.

Clary considers calling up Luke, or maybe Simon… maybe they know something about this, and if it is Shadowhunters following her then maybe that can at least put some of her paranoia to rest. Shadowhunters wouldn’t be a threat and she’d feel a lot better knowing that’s who is following her around and not some crazy normal mundane stalker.

Her finger hovers over the call button, Luke’s number pulled up, but she hesitates. She made a promise, not just to him but to all of them. She can make it on her own - she has to. Clary puts the phone back into her pocket and when the next day feels entirely normal she almost forgets all about it. The party she’s invited to by one of the edgy, bangs-sticking-out-from-under-my-beanie guys from her figure drawing class helps. She has a few drinks, dances with a few people, and makes sure to note all of the _good_ things about her life just then. Because it is a good life, all things considered. It might not be what she wants but it isn’t _bad_.

Until it is.

She’s halfway home from the party, deciding to use the cool night air to sober up a bit rather than flag down a taxi or get a ride, when she senses it.

It isn’t in her head, she’s certain this time - she’s being followed.

Clary turns her head just enough to catch sight of three people at the head of the alley. “Rebecca,” she starts slowly, trying to keep her voice low. “Do you see the people behind us?”

Rebecca turns to look and frowns. “No, it’s just us, Clary. I think you had a few too many cups of that punch.” Rebecca laughs and it’s loud and melodic and carefree, starting back down the alley while Clary remains rooted to the spot, trying to peer closer into the shadows behind them - it’s also the last thing Clary hears before she’s attacked.

The next thing Clary knows there’s a sharp prick on the side of her neck, a haze settling in before she can so much as spin around to face her assailant. Hands over her mouth muffle any attempt to get her roommate’s attention, which she immediately stops. Maybe if Rebecca doesn’t turn around they’ll let her leave. Clary has a credit card in her purse, her shoes alone are worth more than her rent, she has plenty for a mugger to take.

Except they make no move to pull the bag from her shoulder. She hears a sound behind her, almost like a rush of air, and strong arms lift her and carry her through something very bright.

A portal.

As her vision starts to fade the last thing she notices are the tattoos - the runes - on bits of exposed neck and arm of the person holding her.

Then the world goes dark.

\---

Clary wakes up slowly. Her head is pounding and she remembers going to that party. She must’ve drank too much.

She’s laying on something soft but as she shifts her hand hits the floor instead of flopping over the edge of the bed, and it’s the first sign that something isn’t right. Her eyes blink open slowly, taking in the mattress she’s sleeping on, which is on the ground. And then the weight around her ankles - chains binding her to the wall next to her.

The haze of hangover and sleep is gone instantly, and Clary bolts upright with a jolt.

“Oh good, you’re finally awake,” a woman with dark black hair says to her. She must be in her thirties, maybe forties, and she’s covered in runes. Clary feels an immediate pang of longing at the sight of them despite her situation.

The woman follows Clary’s gaze down to her bare arms and laughs. The sound is cold and her eyes are judgmental. “Like what you see?” The woman practically purrs. “I hope so, because I think you’re going to get a few of your own back.”

Clary wants to believe her, she wants to ask a million questions about why she’s here and who this woman is, wondering if maybe it can be true… maybe she can trust them…

But she knows she can’t. Nothing has changed, and getting her runes back is nothing but a liability. A danger.

“I can’t,” Clary says, pushing down that initial feeling of hope.

“It’s cute that you think you have a choice,” the woman points out.

Just then another voice sounds from a small, dark hallway on the other end of the room.

“Now, now. No need to be cruel,” the man, older, maybe in his fifties, states with a disapproving tisk. “Miss Fray is a very important guest here. Let’s get some food in her, poor thing looks about ready to pass out on the spot.”

The woman looks like she wants to argue, but instead turns on her heel and leaves the way the man just came. Clary has to assume she’s safe enough here, they could’ve killed her a million times over while she was unconscious and they didn’t, so that has to be a good sign, right?

“Do you keep all your very important guests chained to the wall?” Clary says.

The man casts a glance back down that dark hallway again.

“Maybe,” he replies cryptically. It’s such a casual, off-handed dismissal but Clary is suddenly certain she isn’t the only one here, wherever ‘here’ is.

“Where am I?” She tries instead.

“You’re right where you need to be. We have work to do, Clarissa, and you’re going to be the missing piece that makes it all fall into place.” He beams at her, and it sends a chill down her spine.

Her eyes wander to a rune he has on his neck, remembering that the woman had it as well. It’s just a circle, simple, but nothing she remembers seeing on Jace, or Alec, or any of the others and definitely not one she used to have before.

Clary finds herself torn between wanting to ask more questions and wondering if she isn’t better off knowing as little as possible. Any escape routes seem questionable at best - there are no doors to this room, only hallways, which means she has no direct access to the outdoors… and even if she did there’s no way of knowing how far from help she may be.

Does anyone know she’s here?

“Rebecca.” The name escapes her lips before she can stop it. “Is she okay?”

“The girl in the alley with you?” The man asks, and Clary nods. “Probably,” he says with a dismissive shrug. “We didn’t hurt her if that’s what you’re asking. Assuming she lives a normal, uneventful life I’m sure she’s fine.”

Rebecca normally lives a normal uneventful life. Rebecca _also_ has a note from Clary with Simon’s number on it to call if anything excessively weird happens. If she saw the people take her if she saw the portal… hell, even if she just doesn’t come back for a few days. What if, in trying to cover her own ass, Clary accidentally gave her roommate an invitation to the very trouble Clary was trying to stay out of?

Clary tries very hard not to think about that since there isn’t much she can do about it while she’s a prisoner. Falling silent again, Clary watches the man who seems to be studying her closely. Not close enough for Clary to touch, he’s too smart to put himself in harm’s way but close.

“You remind me so much of your father,” the man says, his tone surprisingly fond.

“Luke?” Clary questions, confused, only to be met by the suddenly dark, narrowed eyes angered by her words.

“ _Lucian_ ,” he spits out the name derisively before taking a short breath to get his flare of anger under control. “No, dear. Your real father. Your _blood_ , Clarissa.”

“Valentine.” Clary’s few memories of him are the haziest of all, but she knows the name and speaking it seems to undo the damage bringing up Luke caused.

“You’re a visionary like him, I can tell. And we’re going to use the gifts he gave you to complete the work he started,” the man continues, beaming down at Clary as if she’s some sort of gift from Valentine just for him, and Clary hates it.

But she’s smart. She senses the opportunity presented to her and decides to take advantage of it as much as she can until she can think of a plan. At the very least it beats sitting around doing nothing.

“You know what happened to me, right? With my memories?” Clary decides to ask.

The man’s expression softens. “I do. A tragedy, truly. You hold so much potential, Clarissa. You’re a threat to them. Shadowhunters have always feared true power, the true possibility of change.”

“Then you know I haven’t gotten them back. I don’t really remember my father… could you tell me about him?” Clary asks. She doesn’t know what these people are planning, and this will give her a much better idea of who, and what, she’s dealing with here. It might also give her some much-needed insight on how to manipulate them - if that’s even possible. Clary’s never been one to let things happen _to_ her if she can help it, and while this is a small thing to have some semblance of control over at least it’s something.

The man goes to the other side of the room and grabs a chair from up against the wall: clearly Clary’s question is the right one because he’s settling in for what appears to be quite the lengthy story. Clary listens, trying to keep her face as neutral as possible to not give away the disgust she feels over every single word that leaves the man’s mouth. Her stomach turns at the tales of ridding the world of Downworlders, of the goals Valentine held through the decades he spent alive, about his drive and determination to create a world that free from the tainted blood of the Shadow World. Purify. Cleanse. These are the words he uses, painting Valentine in the light of someone with an impressive superiority complex, and Clary feels sick at the idea of not only being associated with him but a _reminder_ of him, not just to the man in front of her but likely so many more in the Shadow World. And, in the eyes of the people who kidnapped her, she’s simply an extension of him to serve their goals.

“We have a plan already in motion, one that improves upon the research he left behind. His work won’t be in vain. And you, Clarissa Morgenstern, can begin to make up for your role in ending his life.”

Clary winces at the words. The man is trying not to scare her because he needs her, but there’s a harshness there: blame that she knows she deserves but isn’t even remotely sorry about, especially not after hearing everything he just told her. She may not know everything about this world but she knows that what he described is nothing more than glorified genocide. They aren’t purifying anything in following Valentine’s plan to erase Downworlders from their world.

Instead of commenting, Clary remains silent. What are they going to have her do? What are _they_ going to do? She has more questions now than she did before, and what she was told is so horrifically biased, but at least she knows a little more than she did before. Right now every little bit helps, especially when Simon, and Maia, and the lives of every other Downworlder may be in danger.

“What do you need me to do?” Clary asks, finally.

The man only smiles and shakes his head. “You’ll find out soon enough. I think that’s enough talking for now.”

“No, wait!” Clary tries, but he only grabs the chair and doesn’t turn back around to face her again.

“Your food will be here soon. Eat, and rest. You’ll need your strength.”

Clary listens to the sound of his footsteps fading down that dark hallway before collapsing back onto the cold mattress with nothing to do but wait.

\---

Clary’s sleep is full of images that don’t make any immediate sense. She sees someone else… _something_ else… chained to a wall in a room very similar to her own. She sees a black symbol, an intricate set of markings she hasn’t seen before. She sees her father instructing a crowd of people full of hate, their hearts as black as the runes on their skin. She sees inmates freed by Valentine. She sees herself standing in front of the angel and feels the weight of a choice…

When she wakes up Clary clings to fading details desperately. She knows they’re important, but she doesn’t know why.

There’s food on a tray next to her mattress but no one else in the room. There’s also no silverware, she notes. Part of her wants to refuse it on principle - maybe if she’s too weak she’ll be useless to them. Except useless only means expendable, and she’s so hungry she can feel the steady pain in her stomach over it, and the ache creeping into her temples. The flimsy plastic cup of water feels like heaven the moment it crosses her dry, parched lips, and she takes a deep breath to pace herself from inhaling everything in front of her in seconds.

She’s left alone, for how long she isn’t sure until the man from before comes back with a chain in his hands. “Good, you ate,” he says, looking clearly pleased. “I’m going to chain your hands now. Hold them out for me.”

Clary instinctively draws her hands close behind her back instead. “Why?”

“Do I really need a reason?” He asks, clearly reminding her that she doesn’t have a say here, no matter whose daughter she is. “But if it makes you feel better, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He looks down at her hands expectantly. “Please don’t make me do this the hard way. I don’t _want_ to hurt you.”

“I do,” chimes the woman’s voice from when Clary first woke up. “Let me do it.” There’s a sadistic grin on her face that has Clary offering her hands willingly to the man in favor of the alternative. The metal is cold on the cuffs that bind her wrists together, the chain between them heavy. The ones around her ankles stay but are removed from where they attach to the wall, and Clary allows herself to be not-entirely-gently lead down the dark hallway they keep entering and leaving through, her heartbeat thumping wildly in her chest with every step, convinced that despite their words she’s being lead to her death.

She doesn’t expect to see the person-like-thing from her dream chained in the far corner of the room, and this time she can make out the details she couldn’t quite remember after waking up. It’s got a body like a human, clothed in an outfit that she’s sure used to be white but has seen better days - much like being wearing it. Being, she thinks, because while mostly human in appearance it has wings, dirty and matted and curled up against itself.

Clary finds herself staring down at a chained up angel.

“Clary, I’d like to introduce you to Taharial,” the man declares, pride dripping from his words. Clary can’t suppress a shudder. “You two are going to help us create a world the Angels will truly be proud of.”

**Author's Note:**

> (A/N - I can feel the mistake that is this impulse deep in my bones but I'm rolling with it anyway. I am making no promises on update speed, or quality of my currently nonexistent plot, only that I want this story to go on forever... so why shouldn't it? Or at least until I'm out of ideas. This might have 2 parts, or 20, or 200. I guess we'll find out! If you want to shout ideas or reactions at me on twitter, use #CodaFic because I've always wanted a thing with a hashtag so why not?) 
> 
> ( Find me on [Tumblr](http://bytheangell.tumblr.com) and also on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/By_The_Angell) while we all hang out waiting for someone to #SaveShadowhunters ! <3)


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